• 


• 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Commodore  Byron  McCandless 


• 


THE    HISTOEY 


THE   BRITISH    REBELLION 


1  685. 


. 


A    HISTORY 


ENGLISH  AND  SCOTCH  REBELLIONS 


1685. 

DESCRIBING   THE    STRUGGLES   OF   THE   ENGLISH   AND 

SCOTCH  PEOPLE  TO  RID  THEMSELVES  OF  A 

POPISH   KING,  JAMES   THE   SECOND. 

THE 

DUKE   OF  MONMOUTH   HEADING  THE   REBELLION   IN  ENGLAND. 

AKD 

THE  EARL  OF  ARGYLE  THAT  OF  SCOTLAND. 


ADVENTUROUS  CAREER,  MELANCHOLY  DEFEATURE,  AND 
SAD  CONSEQUENCES. 


BT 

••^• 

JULIA    W.    H.    GEORGE. 


"  Details  are  the  physiognomy  of  character,  and  by  them  they  engrave 
themselves  upon  the  imagination."  Lamartine. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  CADY  &  BURGESS, 
80  JOHN-STREET. 

1851. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  by  JULIA  \V.  II.  GEORGE,  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty-one,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of 
the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New- York. 


D.  FANSHAW,  PRINTER, 
35  Ann,  cor.  of  Nassnu-st. 


DA 

435* 


PREFACE. 


<:  The  tastes  of  those  who  were  the  rising  generation 
when  the  Waverly  Novels  were  the  absorbing  theme," 
says  a  celebrated  writer,  "  have  become  matured.  They 
require  to  have  history  rendered  as  agreeable  without 
fiction  as  with  it.  They  desire  to  have  it  written  without 
sacrificing  truth  to  fastidiousness,  that  they  may  read  it 
with  their  children ;  and  that  the  whole  family  party 
shall  be  eager  to  resume  the  book  when  they  gather 
round  the  work-table  in  the  long  winter  evenings,"  when 
amusement  blended  with  instruction,  through  works  con- 
veying a  knowledge  of  the  past,  shall  be  that  proper  and 
wholesome  food  which  has  truth  for  its  basis,  and  facts, 
not  fancies,  for  its  superstructure. 

There  is  an  universal  thirst  in  the  present  age  for 
this  kind  of  reading ;  and  every  work  issuing  from  the 
press  bearing  on  its  title  page  records  of  deeds  of  actual 
occurrence,  with  their  heroes  and  heroines  faithfully  por- 
trayed, meets  with  a  ready  grasp  from  thousands  of  eager 
and  expectant  hearts ;  as  the  dry  chronicles  of  ancient 
times,  perused  as  tasks  in  early  youth,  have  left  little 
remembrance  of  the  realities  of  those  times  which  the 
chivalrous  age  and  spirit  of  the  past  render,  in  truth,  so 
absorbing  and  interesting. 


G  PREFACE. 

Books  in  former  ages  were  written  for  the  few ;  now 
they  are  penned  for  the^  many.  A  more  general  de- 
velopement  of  mind  and  character  pervades  all  classes, 
and  the  peasant  and  the  prince  may  now  almost,  we 
might  say,  enjoy  alike  the  labors  of  those  who  are  instru- 
mental in  giving  additional  light  to  what  has  been  ren- 
dered hitherto  too  obscure  in  its  details  for  general  adap- 
tation and  improvement. 

The  following  pages  give  a  history  of  the  Rebellion 
of  1685,  headed  by  James  Scot,  Duke  of  Monmouth,  the 
eldest  illegitimate  son  of  Charles  the  Second,  whose  career 
is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  remarkable  upon  record.  In 
tracing  the  sad  consequences  of  his  ill-advised  invasion, 
while  strictly  confining  ourselves  to  facts,  we  shall  also 
endeavor  so  to  delineate  his  character  and  motives,  as 
shall  place  before  our  readers  a  full  and  complete  his- 
tory of  the  eventful  period  in  which  he  performed  so 
conspicuous  a  part. 

The  Earl  of_Argyle  led  the  rebellion  in  Scotland 
about  the  same  time.  An  anachronism  will  be  found  in 
the  manner  in  which  we  have  placed  their  histories ;  the 
Scottish  rebellion  having  commenced  and  ended  before 
that  of  England  was  terminated ;  but  as  the  narration 
of  facts  are  strictly  given,  this  was  deemed  unimportant. 

lu  this  work  there  will  be  found  little  allusion  to 
notes  or  "  documentary  testimony  ;"  but  what  i«  here  ad- 
duced has  been  derived  from  true  and  reliable  sources,  and 
the  details  related,  therefore,  depended  on  as  authentic. 

Argyle's  character  was  very  different  to  that  of  Mon- 
mouth, and  he  might  truly  be  said  to  have  erred  on 


PREFACE.  7 

virtue's  side.  Like  Monmouth,  however,  he  wanted  that 
firmness  of  purpose  and  will,  necessary  to  a  commander ; 
determination  in  a  leader,  being  equally  as  essential  fte 
obedience  in  a  subordinate. 

As  the  title  imports,  it  is  a  chronicle  of  the  events  of 
the  time,  as  they  occurred,  faithfully  portraying  one  of 
the  most  suffering  periods  England  has  ever  known. 


New-York,  March,  1851. 


» 


• 


THE 


CHAPTER   I. 

< 

Dissatisfaction  and  disaffection  distinguished  a 
large  portion  of  both  public  and  private  individuals 
during  the  latter  years  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
Second,  which  was  still  more  increased  when  they 
considered  that  to  their  present  grievances,  by  the 
succession  of  the  duke  his  brother,  all  the  horrors 
of  a  Papal  administration  would  be  added.  To  rid 
themselves  of  so  odious  a  necessity  many  plans  had 
been  formed,  and  many  plots  entered  into,  but  failure 
and  discovery  had,  so  far,  only  been  the  result.  Baf- 
fled, but  not  by  that  means  deprived  of  hopes  of 
accomplishing  their  end,  we  find  the  whigs,  in  the 
Spring  of  1681,  convened  to  concert  measures  to 
carry  a  plan  into  execution  to  prevent  the  Duke  of 
York  from  ever  ascending  the  throne  of  England. 

Charles  had  been  taken  suddenly  ill  at  Windsor 
Castle,  and,  by  his  physicians,  thought  in  a  very 
dangerous  condition.  Under  those  circumstances  no 

time  for  the  accomplishment  of  their  object  was  to 

a 


* 


10  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

be  lost.  The  Duke  of  Monmouth,  Charles'  eldest 
illegitimate  son,  therefore,  with  his  colleagues,  Lord 
Grey,  Lord  Russell,  and  the  restless  Lord  Shaftes- 
oury,  thought  this  the  proper  opportunity  to  orga- 
nize their  plans,  and,  in  the  event  of  the  king's  ill- 
ness proving  fatal,  to  rise  in  arms  against  the  suc- 
cession of  his  brother. 

Charles  recovered,  but  the  designs  they  had  form* 
ed  were  not  on  this  account  abandoned.  These  con- 
spirators, together  with  the  Earls  of  Essex  and 
Salisbury,  determined  on  continuing  the  Oxford  par- 
liament after  the  king  should  dissolve  it,  which  in  a 
few  days  was  to  take  place.  To  this  end  they  detained 
several  lords  in  the  house"  under  pretext  of  signing 
the  impeachment  of  Fitzharris.  At  this  juncture 
news  reached  them  that  the  commons  had  broken 
up  in  great  consternation,  among  whom  were  leaders 
in  the  same  desperate  measure,  which  acted  on  them 
like  magic,  and  they  at  once  resolved  upon  separat- 
ing, though  still  determined  to  persevere. 

Shaftesbury,  more  unfortunate  than  the  others, 
was  taken  up  and  imprisoned,  and  this,  for  some 
time,  ended  their  plottings  and  machinations.  But  the 
smouldering  fire,  which,  notwithstanding  its  progress, 
was  for  a  time  hidden  beneath  an  exterior  of  calm 
and  safe  quiet,  was  to  burst  forth  with  renewed  vio- 
lence. The  seeds  of  rebellion  had  been  sown  on  no 
ungenial  soil,  the  graina  had  taken  root,  and  were 
expanding  hidden,  but  deep ;  and  the  fruits  would 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  11 

manifest  themselves  at  no  very  distant  day.  The 
spirit  of  sedition  was  spreading  fast,  both  in  town 
and  country. 

Monmouth,  in  the  meantime,  had  engaged  the  Earl 
of  Macclesfield,  Lord  Brendon,  Sir  Gilbert  Gerard, 
and  other  gentlemen  of  Cheshire ;  Lord  Russell  enter- 
ed into  a  correspondence  with  Sir  William  Courtenay, 
Sir  Francis  Drake,  and  Sir  Francis  Eowe,  who  pro- 
mised to  raise  the  West.  While  one  William  Tren- 
chard  promised  the  conspirators  a  large  interest  in 
the  disaffected  town  of  Taunton,  where  he  said  he 
had  considerable  influence. 

Lord  Shaftesbury  had  been  set  at  liberty,  as  no 
sufficient  cause  could  be  proved  for  his  further  deten- 
tion in  prison,  though  he  was  known  to  be  a  danger- 
ous person.  He  therefore  commenced  operations  in 
London,  assisted  by  Robert  Ferguson,  a  violent  whig, 
and  a  most  inveterate  talker,  who  used  that  talent  in 
stirring  up  all  whom  he  came  across  to  join  Mon- 
mouth's  standard,  and  assist  at  this  great  juncture  in 
endeavoring  to  prevent  a  Catholic  ruler  occupying 
the  British  throne.  He  had  been  an  Independant  cler- 
gyman, and  was  listened  to  the  more  readily  on  that 
account,  inspiring  confidence  wherever  he  went,  and 
being  made  the  recipient  of  all  the  movements  going 
forward  in  the  different  counties  by  the  several  par- 
ties employed  to  correspond  on  the  subject. 

Lord  Shaftesbury's  disposition  little  fitted  him  for 
the  office  he  had  undertaken.  Fearful  and  nervous, 


• 


12  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

he  realized  all  the  horrors  of  his  desperate  situation, 
though  full  of  schemes  of  daring,  and  longing  to  come 
to  that  crisis  when  action  would  give  full  scope  and 
exercise  for  these  restless  feelings,  for  whom  quiet  and 
suspense  was  torture  in  the  highest  degree.  He  was 
therefore  indefatigable  in  his  endeavors  to  bring  about 
this  desired  consummation.  Secreting  himself  by  day 
and  prowling  about  all  night,  his  constant  exordium 
was,  "  Let  us  commence  at  once,  let  us  lose  no  time, 
lest,  the  knowledge  of  our  intentions  getting  wind, 
the  whole  thing  should  explode  and  come  to  nothing 
at  last."  Meetings  were,  therefore,  constantly  being 
held  at  the  houses  of  different  whigs  in  London,  par- 
ticularly at  one  Shepherd's,  a  wine  merchant,  more 
zealous  than  the  rest,  and,  like  Shaftesbury,  panting 
for  action.  The  plan  of  the  insurrection  was  here  at 
length  formed.  Devonshire,  Cheshire  and  Bristol 
were  to  be  the  places  of  rendezvous ;  all  the  opera- 
tion were  laid  down,  and  even  the  state  of  the  guards 
examined  and  discussed,  and  an  attack  pronounced 
practicable.  Then  followed  the  reading  of  a  declara- 
tion, in  which  they  justified  themselves  to  the  public 
for  the  steps  they  were  about  to  take. 

Every  preliminary  being  thus  agreed  upon,  no- 
thing seemed  to  remain  but  to  commence  the  insurrec- 
tion at  once,  which  would  have  been  the  case  had  not 
news  arrived  from  Trenchard,  that  the  rising  in  the 
west  of  England  could  not  be  in  sufficient  forward- 
ness for  some  weeks  to  come. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  13 

The  impatience  of  Shaftesbury's  temper  could  ill 
brook  this  delay,  for  he  thought  that  success  could 
alone  be  secured  by  instantaneous  measures.  He 
could  command,  he  said,  ten  thousand  himself,  ready 
at  the  beck  of  his  finger  to  spring  forth  and  fly  to 
their  arms. 

This  was  very  annoying  to  Monmouth  and  Rus- 
sell, for  their  calculations  were  made  with  more  judg- 
ment and  coolness  than  that  of  their  colleague  ;  and 
they  were  afraid  of  what  it  would  eventually  drive 
him  to,  and  it  did  end  in  hie  giving  up  all  in  a  pa- 
roxism  of  rage,  and  flying  to  Amsterdam,  where, 
having  given  great  dissatisfaction  for  his  former 
councils  against  the  Dutch  commonwealth,  he  was 
refused  every  public  appointment  he  solicited,  and 
in  a  short  time  died,  little,  alas !  deplored  or  lamented. 

His  furious  temper,  it  was  discovered,  had  done 
great  injury  to  the  cause  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
the  iniquitous  designs  he  entertained  being  of  a  na- 
ture so  heinous  that  they  would  have  been  destruc- 
tive in  the  highest  degree  in  a  faction  where  unanimi- 
ty of  interests  were  above  all  things  necessary,  and 
an  assumption  at  least,  of  purity  of  purpose  in  their 
designs. 

The  death  of  Shaftesbury  was  productive  of  much 
evil  to  their  plans,  the  conspirators  in  the  city  hav- 
ing rested  their  entire  dependance  in  his  lordship, 
and  looked  upon  him  as  their  leader.  The  circum- 
stances in  which  they  were  placed,  however,  required 

%.*'  • 

i~  •        • 

*'  *  •  •  '    .•»• 

*        - 


14  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

a  movement  of  some  kind ;  and,  after  mature  delibera- 
tion,  they  agreed  to  stand  by  each  other  and  to  or- 
ganize their  plans,  and  then  commence  the  insurrec- 
tion. A  council  of  six  was  therefore  formed,  consist- 
ing of  Monmouth,  Eussell,  Essex,  Howard,  Algernon, 
Sidney,  and  John  Hampden,  grand-son  of  the  great 
parliamentary  leader.  These  men  entered  into  an 
agreement  with  Argyle  and  the  Scottish  mal-con- 
tents,  then  in  Holland,  for  the  payment  of  ten 
thousand  pounds  to  purchase  arms,  and  in  order  to 
bring  them  into  the  field. 

With  all  this  seeming  unanimity  of  purpose,  each 
of  the  conspirators  had  their  own  peculiar  ends  in 
view.     Sidney  and  Essex  were  desirous  of  establish- 
ing a  commonwealth ;  Hampden  and  Eussell  were  zea- 
lously attached  to  the  ancient  constitution,  and  wish- 
ed to  exclude  the  duke,  and  redress  all  the  grievan- 
ces of  the  people.  But  Monmouth  differed  from  them 
all,  he  wished  to  possess  the  crown.    With  these  several 
purposes  in  view  they  were,  however,  united  in  one 
common  feeling  of  discontent  at  Charles'  adminis- 
tration, and  hatred  of  the  Duke,  his  brother  and  suc- 
cessor, so  that  the  insurrection  was  resolved  on  by 
all  who  had  engaged  in  forwarding  so  daring  an  act. 
Unknown  to  the  conspirators  there  was  yet  ano- 
ther plot  in  active  operation,  and  numbered  among  its 
leaders  West,  Ty ley,  Norton  and  Ayloffe,lawyers ;  Fer- 
guson, House,  Hone,  Kuling,  Holloway,  Browne,  Lee, 
and  Rumbould.  They  held  meetings  for  the  purpose  of 


• 


*  i 

BRITISH      REBELLION.  15     M 

'jt 

concerting  measures  for  the  assassination  of  the  king 
and  the  duke.  Nothing  could  surpass  the  heartless- 
ness  of  these  men  when  discussing  this  subject,  which 
they  familiarly  termed  "lopping."  One  plan  formed 
was  to  waylay  Charles  as  he  returned  from  the  races. 
Eumbould,  who  was  a  maltster,  and  possessed  an  es- 
tate which  lay  in  the  way  to  New  Market,  laid  before 
them  a  plan  of  his  farm,  showing  how  easy  it  would 
be,  by  overturning  a  cart,  to  upset  the  king's  coach 
and  then  fire  on  him  from  behind  the  hedges.  But 
this  was  providentially  prevented  by  the  house  which 
he  occupied  at  New  Market  suddenly  taking  fire, 
obliging  him  to  fly  a  week  before  his  usual  time,  and 
ere  their  plans  had  been  matured,  or  they  had  provid- 
ed themselves  with  arms  necessary  for  carrying  them 
into  execution.  Indeed  it  all  amounted  to  little  more 
than  talk,  and  their  meeting  resulted  in  scarcely  any- 
thing beyond  the  expression  of  the  rancorous  feel- 
ings which  they  fostered  against  the  king  and  the 
duke.  This  was  called  the  rye-house  plot,  from 
Rumbould's  house  of  that  name.  All  was  discovered 
through  a  man  of  the  name  of  Ruling,  a  salter,  who, 
to  save  himself  from  the  punishment  of  a  crime  of 
which  he  was  accused,  disclosed  all  the  circumstances 
and  the  names  of  the  persons  engaged  in  it.  This  led 
to  an  investigation,  and  one  after  another,  with  the 
hope  of  saving  themselves,  confessed  or  confirmed 
the  evidence  of  Ruling ;  but  one  Rumsey,  besides 
this,  gave  information  of  the  conspirators'  meetings  at 


16  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

Shepherd's,  and  the  result  was  that  Grey  and  How- 
ard were  arrested.  Howard  had  concealed  himself 
in  ra  chimney,  and  when  taken,  being  a  man  of  no 
principle,  he  at  once  gave  information  of  his  confe- 
derates, in.  the  hope  that  by  doing  so  he  would  secure 
both  a  pardon  and  reward.  Essex,  Sidney  and  Hamp- 
den  were  also  apprehended,  and  others  every  day 
discovered  and  thrown  into  prison.  Eussell  was  sent 
to  the  Tower,  but  Monmouth  absconded. 

Subsequently  many  of  the  conspirators  were 
executed,  and  this  circumstance  might  be  supposed 
to  set  all  future  rebellious  feelings  at  rest ;  but  not 
so.  Lord  Halifax,  seeing  how  the  duke's  influence 
prevailed,  resolved  on  having  recourse  to  Monmouth, 
and  to  this  end  sought  out  and  found  his  retreat, 
and  prevailed  on  him  to  write  to  the  king,  express- 
ing his  penitence,  and  begging  his  forgiveness. 

Charles  was  unable  to  withstand  his  son's  plead- 
ings, and  with  all  the  father  in  his  heart  invited  him 
to  come  to  court,  an  invitation  which  was  promptly 
accepted;  and  when  he  arrived  there  the  king  did 
everything  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  him 
and  his  brother  James,  who  felt  all  these  proceedings 
to  be  chiefly  aimed  at  him,  to  prevent  his  succeeding 
Charles  on  the  throne. 

Confidence  being  thus  established,  Charles  in- 
duced Monmouth  to  give  him  the  whole  history  of 
the  conspiracy  and  the  conspirators,  promising  that 
his  testimony  should  never  be  employed  against  his 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  17 

friends.  To  this  end  he  called  an  extra  council,  and 
told  them  that  his  son  had  expressed  the  greatest 
penitence  for  the  part  he  had  taken ;  had  pledged 
his  word  never  again  to  be  engaged  in  anything  of 
the  kind ;  and  published  a  paragraph  to  that  effect. 

Monmouth  waited  for  hjs  complete  pardon,  in 
prison,  and  then  hastened  to  retrieve  his  character 
by  denying  this  public  statement ;  which  so  enraged 
the  king  that  he  ordered  him  to  leave  the  kingdom, 
and  all  his  confederates  also. 

Monmouth  was  Charles'  eldest  illegitimate  son, 
and  had  been  married  some  years  to  an  amiable 
lady,  who  had  borne  him  two  children.  She  was  de- 
votedly attached  to  her  husband,  but  unfortunately 
her  love  had  never  been  returned.  In  his  early 
youth  Monmouth  had  entered  deeply  into  the  dissi- 
pations of  his  father's  court,  and  in  order  to  correct 
his  profligate  habits  a  marriage  was  negociated  be- 
tween him  and  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  palace,  a 
friend  of  the  queen's,  who,  although  living  in  an 
atmosphere  so  vicious,  yet  retained  the  most  unble- 
mished purity  of  character.  Monmouth  obeyed,  me- 
chanically, this  wish  of  the  king ;  but  it  failed  to 
effect  the  desired  reformation.  He  spent  little  of 
his  time  in  the  society  of  his  wife,  but  gave  himself 
up  to  every  species  of  pleasure  and  gaiety,  as  before. 

The  Duchess  of  Monmouth  bore  the  neglect  and 
indifference  with  which  she  was  treated,  with  mild- 
ness and  resignation,  until  reports  reached  her  that 

r 


18 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


another  shared  in  the  affection  which  should  have 
been  wholly  hers. 

Lady  Wentworth  was  a  young  and  beautiful 
baroness  in  her  own  right ;  and  on  her  presentation 
to  the  queen  her  beauty  had  completely  captivated 
Monrnouth. 

The  duchess  had  beheld  with  sorrow  her  hus- 
band's ill-advised  measures  and  plottings  to  raise  a 
rebellion,  and  would  have  raised  her  feeble  voice 
against  it ;  but,  knowing  how  vain  and  futile  would 
be  any  attempt  of  the  kind  on  her  part,  forbore. 
Bat  his  banishment  from  the  kingdom  filled  her 
with  the  most  unspeakable  anguish,  not  only  on 
account  of  his  absence,  but  other  causes. 

Monmouth  departed,  but  not  alone.  His  voyage 
to  Holland,  whither  he  bent  his  steps,  was  cheered 
by  the  presence  of  Lady  Wentworth,  who  forsook 
her  parents  and  her  duty  to  be  his  companion  in 
exile. 

Monmouth's  object  in  going  to  Holland  was  to 
become  the  guest  of 'William  and  Mary,  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Orange ;  and  they  now  having  ceased  to 
regard  him  as  a  rival,  received  him  with  every  de- 
monstration of  regard. 

Charles'  banishment  they  considered  an  extreme- 
ly severe  measure ;  while  to  Monmouth'  himself  it 
appeared  an  evidence  of  not  only  a  want  of  affec- 
tion for  him,  but  positive  hatred.  But  this  was  a 
very  mistaken  idea ;  and  he  was  soon  led  to  change 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  19 

his  opinion.  For  constant  supplies  of  money  reach- 
ed him  from  "Whitehall,  followed  by  assurances  that 
if  no  new  cause  of  offence  was  given,  he  would 
speedily  be  recalled.  It  was  also  known  that  Charles 
never  permitted  any  one  to  speak  against  his  banish- 
ed son  in  his  presence,  and  in  truth  he  mourned  his 
absence  more  than  any  other,  for  he  was  his  favor- 
ite son. 

Mon mouth's  personal  attractions  were  great,  add- 
ed to  which  were  manners  so  blandly  elegant  that 
he  soon  became  the  reigning  favorite  among  the 
gay  society  of  the  Hague. 

Lady  Wentworth  lived  in  a  beautiful  retirement 
at  Brabant,  whither  he  often  went;  but  whenever 
he  did  so  his  absence  cast  a  gloom  over  everything 
that  remained  behind,  and  his  return  was  welcomed 
with  general  joy.  The  unexpected  kindness  of  his 
father  filled  his  heart  with  delight ;  and  balls  and 
parties  owed  their  highest  charm  to  his  gay  spirits 
and  presence.  He  introduced  the  country  dance  to 
the  Dutch  ladies,  who  in  return  taught  him  to  skate 
on  the  canals.  The  Princess  of  Orange  (Charles' 
eldest  daughter  by  his  first  marriage)  entered  into 
this  amusement  with  great  spirit,  eclipsing  all  the 
other  ladies  in  the  shortness  of  her  dress,  and  the 
expertness  of  her  movements,  much  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  English  ministers,  and  the  quiet  inha- 
bitants of  the  place. 

Monmouth  was  the  observed,  however,  of  all 


20  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

observers ;  and  lie  was  in  truth  an  elegant  looking 
and  accomplished  man.  He  was,  moreover,  a  king's 
son,  which  fact  gave  him  a  precedence  which  none 
attempted  to  dispute. 

Pleasure  and  ambition  were  the  ruling  elements 
of  his  character ;  and  though  toying  with  the  hour, 
amid  the  festivities  which  on  every  side  surrounded 
him,  the  defeat  he  had  met  with  rankled  deeply  in 
his  heart.  Beneath  the  smiling  surface  of  his  hand- 
some countenance  a  dark  shadow  rested  on  his  soul ; 
and  a  future  often  gleamed  forth  in  brightness  before 
him,  as  yet  in  embryo,  it  is  true,  and  unknown  to 
all  save  himself,  but  one  on  which  he  pondered  with 
great  delight,  and  allowed  nothing  to  divert  him 
from. 

He  sedulously,  however,  avoided  the  Whigs  on 
all  occasions,  and  this  was  construed  by  his  old  asso- 
ciates into  a  fickleness  and  an  ingratitude  on  his 
part,  which  they  little  expected.  But  they  did  not 
read  aright  his  motives.  He  longed  incessantly  to 
be  released  from  his  present  banishment,  and  endea- 
vored so  to  comport  himself,  that  his  father  should 
hear  nothing  but  favorable  reports  concerning  him. 

The  malcontents,  however,  continued  in  heart 
the  same  as  ever,  and  knowing  the  popularity  of 
Monmouth,  tried  hard  to  enlist  him  in  their  rejst- 
lessness,  in  some  charge  or  other.  But  he  refused, 
and  stood  aloof  and  determined  amid  all  their  soli- 
citations. In  the  midst  of  these  private  machina- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  21 

tions  Charles  the  Second  died,  mentioning  on  his 
deathbed  each  of  hia, children  but  Monmouth. 

Amid  the  gaiety  of  the  Hague,  where  time  was 
divided  betwixt  dancing  and  skating,  news  reached 
the  exiled  Duke  of  Monmouth  of  his  father's  death. 
And  his  grief,  it  is  said,  was  perfectly  overwhelm- 
ing ;  he  wept  and  sobbed  during  the  whole  night  to 
such  an  excess  that  his  cries  were  heard  by  all  who 
lodged  near  him. 

The  next  day  he  quitted  the  Hague ;  but  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange,  ere  he  did  so,  extort- 
ed from  him  a  promise  of  never  attempting  anything 
against  the  government  of  England.  On  this  they 
furnished  him  with  all  the  money  he  required  for 
his  immediate  necessities.  This  amiable  prince  and 
princess  were  actuated  towards  him  by  the  kindest 
feelings ;  and  seeing  his  grief  on  the  death  of  the 
king,  and  pitying  his  banished,  melancholy  condi- 
tion, they  suggested — as  their  friendship,  if  conti- 
nued to  be  openly  expressed,  would  in  all  probability 
lead  to  a  rupture  with  England  and  Holland — that 
he  should  repair  to  the  imperial  camp,  as  the  war 
was  then  raging  between  the  Hungarians  and  the 
Turks,  and  there  he  should  be  provided  with  means 
suitable  for  an  English  nobleman. 

But  Monmouth  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
this.;  and  turning  his  back  on  all  their  schemes,  he 
sought  the  residence  of  Lady  Wentworth,  where  he 


. 

22  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

resolved,  as  he  had  now  no  fears  of  his  father's  dis- 
covery, to  yield  to  the  suggestions  of  his  heart. 

He  had  some  compunctious  visitings  of  consci- 
ence for  his  desertion  of  his  dutchess,  but  he  quieted 
these  misgivings  by  the  words  Lady  Wentworth  had 
so  often  spoken,  that  love  like  theirs  was  registered 
in  heaven. 

When  he  arrived  at  Brabant  her  transports  were 
unbounded ;  while  tears  checked  the  raptures  which 
this  joyful  surprise  occasioned,  at  seeing  him  look  so 
pale  and  miserable  from  his  late  affliction. 

Every  former  grievance  was  now  forgotten  by 
Monmouth.  His  grief  for  his  father  subsided  under 
the  influence  of  the  devoted  love  of  his  Henrietta ; 
and  forgetting  the  splendors  which  he  had  enjoy- 
ed at  court,  where  he  was  its  brightest  ornament, 
the  popularity  that  was  his  when  at  the  head  of 
a  party,  and  the  ambition  which  had  wayed  his 
heart  while  aspiring  to  athrone,  he  gave  himself  up 
to  those  softer  feelings  with  her  whom  he  delud- 
ed himself  by  regarding  as  his  true  wife  in  the  sight 
of  heaven ;  since  his  present  bonds  were  those  of 
love,  and  that  of  his  dutchess  formed  from  obedience 
to  his  father  only.  But  he  was  not  suffered  to  enjoy 
this  state  of  things  long.  Ferguson  used  all  his  arts 
to  draw  him  from  his  retreat ;  and  Grey,  whose  po- 
verty was  most  deplorable,  and  rendered  him  fit  for 
any  enterprise,  however  daring,  joined  in  trying  to 
persuade  Monmouth  to  agree  with  them  in  forming 


. 

BRITISH     REBELLION.  23 

a  plan  for  a  descent  upon  England,  as  nothing  but  uni- 
versal dissatisfaction  was  felt  at  James'  being  on  the 
throne,  as  he  was  a  papist ;  to  all  of  which  he  turned 
a  deaf  ear,  saying,  he  was  so  completely  happy  where 
he  then  was,  that  he  wished  for  nothing  more  than  to 
be  left  in  its  quiet  possession.  But  those  men  were  not 
to  be  discouraged  by  such  romantic  arguments,  and 
love  at  length  seconded  the  persuasions  used  to  ex- 
cite the  ambition  which  they  knew  once  so  perfect- 
ly ruled  in  his  breast.  Lady  Wentworth  expressed 
her  wish  to  see  the  man  she  loved  king  of  England, 
offering  him  all  she  possessed  to  sustain  a  war,  con- 
sisting of  her  diamonds  and  her  rents ;  and  yielding  to 
the  solicitation  of  her  in  whose  smiles  all  his  happi- 
ness was  centred,  he  consented  to  enter  again  the 
lists  he  had  been  compelled  to  abandon,  and  once 
more  become  a  candidate  for  the  crown.  Monmouth's 
marriage  in  early  life  he  always  termed  a  forced  one, 
and,  like  all  others  of  its  class,  where  hands,  not 
hearts  were  paired,  it  yielded  no  happiness.  The  re- 
sult was  that  he  sought  those  pleasures  abroad  which 
his  home  could  not  afford  him.  During  his  connec- 
tion with  Lady  Wentworth  conscience  would  often 
intervene,  and  press  upon  him  the  conviction  that  the 
connection  was  a  sinful  one;  but  he  tried  to  justify 
himself  by  asserting  the  love  that  each  felt  for  the 
other,  and  to  express  his  belief  that  affection  like 
theirs  was  sanctioned  in  heaven. 

He  went  forth,  therefore,  a  second  time  to  con- 


5*4  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

spire  against  the  government  of  England,  and  under 
the  pretext  of  trying  to  overthrow  popery,  in  his 
inmost  heart  to  endeavor  to  possess  the  crown,  that 
she  whom  he  so  devotedly  and  entirely  loved  might 
share  it  with  him. 

This  movement  greatly  delighted  all  the  English 
living  in  exile  for  faults  like  his  own,  and  they  seized 
with  avidity  upon  the  idea  of  having  him  as  their  lea- 
der ;  and  collecting  in  a  body,  they  engaged  and  fitted 
out  three  large  vessels,  (which  they  pretended  were 
to  sail  for  the  Canaries)  to  carry  them  to  the  British 
shores.  The  government  of  Amsterdam  quietly  and 
unsuspectingly  allowed  them  to  depart  under  this 
impression,  notwithstanding  the  expostulations  of 
Skelton,  the  English  minister,  who  remonstrated 
warmly  against  it,  doubting  the  motives  ascribed  to 
those  who  had  lived  there,  and  believing  in  some  re- 
bellious intentions  towards  Great  Britain,  tried  to 
influence  the  admiralty  to  detain  them.  But  this 
they  refused,  and  Monmouth  and  his  followers  sail- 
ed off  unmolested. 

They  had  a  wretched  voyage,  for  the  elements 
threatened,  and  several  men-of-war  vessels  were 
seen  cruising  near  them,  which  filled  them  with  long 
and  anxious  fears.  But  Monmouth  escaped  both  the 
storms  and  the  enemy.  They  hailed  the  white  cliffs 
of  Albion  as  the  scene  they  trusted  of  future  success  ; 
and  landing  off  Dorsetshire  sent  oneDare  on  shore 
at  Taunton,  to  prepare  the  good  people  for  what 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  25 

was  to  take  place,  and  to  use  the  influence  he  pos- 
sessed, which  was  considerable,  in  getting  them  to 
join  the  forthcoming  rebellion  against  the  govern- 
ment, for  the  purpose  of  overthrowing  popery  and 
once  more  establishing  the  Protestant  religion  in 
the  nation,  with  Monmouth  for  their  sovereign.  This 
acted  on  all  ranks  like  a  charm.  The  cruelties  which 
James  had  caused  the  Protestants  to  endure  made 
them  rise  for  such  a  movement,  and  in  their  hearts 
he  was  already  hailed  as  their  king,  and  all  felt  rea- 
dy to  fight  for  such  a  cause. 

Monmouth  and  his  party  landed  June  llth,  1685, 
at  Lyme,  a  small  town  situated  on  a  rocky,  wild  and 
sea-washed  coast.  In  the  days  of  the  Plantagenets  a 
pier  of  singular  construction  was  erected  there,  being 
built  of  unhewn,  uncemented  stones.  It  was  called  a 
cob,  and  formed  the  only  haven  of  the  place,  and  was 
an  anchorage  for  fishermen  only,  as  ships  rarely  put 
in  there,  so  that  when  the  three  vessels  containing 
Monmouth  and  his  party  appeared  in  sight  the  inha- 
bitants were  perplexed  beyond  measure.jThe  custom- 
house officers,  as  usual,  had  boarded  them,  but  con- 
trary to  their  usual  practice,  had  not  returned.  This 
circumstance,  in  a  small  town,had  flown  like  wild-fire, 
and  wonderment  filled  every  heart.  The  cliffs  were 
covered  with  spectators,  waiting  anxiously  for  an 
explanation  of  these  mysterious  appearances.  Soon 
large  boats  filled  with  persons  put  off  from  one  of 
the  ships,  then  another  and  another,  and  made  for 


26  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

the  shore,  among  whom  were  Monmouth,  Grey,  An- 
drew Fletcher,  a  Scotchman,  and  Ferguson,  Mon- 
mouth's  tempter  to  this  daring  measure. 

When  they  came  on  land  Monmouth  kneeled 
down  and  devoutly  thanked  God  for  his  preserva- 
tion of  the  friends  of  liberty  and  true  religion  dur- 
ing the  perils  of  the  voyage,  and  besought  the  divine 
blessing  on  the  work  they  were  about  to  engage  in, 
in  the  nation's  behalf,  then  drawing  his  sword  he  de- 
sired all  to  follow  him  into  the  town. 

On  his  arrival,  as  soon  as  his  intention  was  known, 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  knew  no  bounds,  the 
most  uproarious  applause  followed,  and  the  Protes- 
tant religion  and  Monmouth  shouted  from  all  quar- 
ters ;  while  down  with  the  usurper  James,  issued  from 
every  mouth.  A  proclamation  was  read,  desiring  all 
military  stores  in  the  town  to  be  deposited  in  the 
town-hall,  and  setting  forth  the  nature  of  their  expe- 
dition. Again  burst  forth  shouts  and  acclamations, 
and  again  vociferated  the  inflated  populace  against 
James,  calling  him  by  every  degraded  epithet,  and 
charging  him  with  poisoning  the  late  king,  strang- 
ling Godfrey,  and  cutting  the  throat  of  Essex,  ending 
with  a  resolve  that  the  sword  should  never  rest  in 
its  sheath  till  he  was  dethroned  and  executed. 

All  this  was  very  encouraging  and  flattering  to 
Monmouth  and  his  party,  and  their  hopes  of  success 
rose  with  every  new  instance  of  dislike  to  the  king 
and  his  popish  administration. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  27 

The  form  of  government  proposed  by  Monmouth 
took  possession  of  all  hearts.  It  was  first  for  liberty, 
then  for  the  Protestant  religion,  with  a  free  tolera- 
tion of  all  its  sects  and  parties.  Then  parliaments 
were  to  be  held  annually,  not  subject  to  royal  caprice 
as  they  were  now,  to  be  prorogued  or  dissolved  at 
pleasure.  The  standing  army  abolished  and  a  mili- 
tia substituted  in  its  place,  to  be  commanded  by  she- 
riffs, and  the  sheriffs  chosen  by  freeholders.  All 
this~readily  found  an  echo  in  every  heart,  and  to  see 
him  who  thus  stood  forward  as  the  champion  of  so  ma- 
ny privileges,  on  the  throne,  was  their  greatest  desire. 

But  Monmouth  was  considered  illegitimate,  this, 
they  feared,  would  prove  a  barrier  to  their  wishes. 
This  he  at  once  undertook  to  disprove,  by  showing 
satisfactorily  that  he  was  born  in  wedlock,  and  accord- 
ingly was  the  king  by  blood  ;  but,  that  waiving  its 
claim,  he  preferred  being  elected  by  a  free  parliament, 
and  being  made  sovereign  by  the  will  and  the  hearts 
of  the  people,  whom  he  sought  alone  to  serve.  In  the 
meantime  to  be  regarded  as  the  enemy  of  popery, 
and  having  taking  up  arms,  to  effect  its  overthrow. 

In  view  of  all  this  he  was  almost  idolized,  and 
his  followers  entertained  the  most  sanguine  hopes  of 
obtaining  the  destruction  of  the  existing  govern- 
ment, and  carrying  all  before  them. 

Monmouth  now  began  to  assume  his  royal  pre- 
rogative in  the  forms  of  state  he  caused  to  be  ob- 
served towards  him.  Wherever  he  went  the  monarch 


28  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

was  to  be  acknowledged,  and  the  dignity  of  his  po- 
sition duly  recognised ;  and  he  was  so  much  beloved 
by  all  ranks,  that  his  wishes  in  this  respect  were  met 
with  alacrity,  and  performed  with  readiness  and 
zeal.  To  Lady  Wentworth  this  was  highly  gratifying, 
and  she  incited  in  every  communication  renewed 
ardour  in  the  pursuit  of  a  project  which  a  second 
time,  but  for  her,  he  never  would  have  attempted. 
The  tory  party  consisted  mostly  of  the  nobility 
and  gentry,  but  the  middling  classes  clung  to  the 
views  and  feelings  which  Cromwell  had  established ; 
and  when  it  became  known  that  Monmouth  sought 
to  establish  a  similar  order  of  things,  their  enthusi- 
asm at  once  burst  forth.  Multitudes  poured  forth  to 
meet  him,  and  the  hedges  for  miles,  as  he  passed 
through  Devonshire,  were  lined  with  people,  many 
strewing  flowers  and  branches  of  trees  in  his  way. 
Five  thousand  horsemen  had  joined  him  before  he 
reached  Exeter,  where  nine  hundred  young  men, 
dressed  in  white,  assembled  to  meet  "the  good  Duke 
of  Monmouth,  the  protestant  duke,"  as  he  was  call- 
ed, and  to  rally  around  his  standard.  The  fact  that 
the  nobility  did  not  join  him,  had  no  effect  upon 
them.  He  was  the  sovereign  of  their  hearts,  who, 
kept  out  of  his  legitimate  rights,  excited  the  warm- 
est sympathy.  Crowds  were  added  to  his  forces,  and 
before  he  had  been  on  English  ground  three  days 
he  numbered  fifteen  hundred  men  as  his  adherents, 
ready  to  spill  their  last  drop  of  blood  in  his  cause. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  29 

He  could  hardly  find  clerks  enough  to  take  their 
names  down  sufficiently  fast,  so  eagerly  did  they 
pour  in  upon  him.  And  from  Taunton  news  had 
arrived  that  all  were  for  him  there,  and  already  forty 
horsemen  had  arrived.  So  far  the  promise  of  success 
was  great.  But  another  party  were  preparing  to 
oppose  the  insurgents.  June  the  13th  the  red  regi- 
ment of  Dorsetshire  sallied  forth  to  meet  the  foe ; 
and  another  regiment  from  Dorsetshire,  with  Sir  W. 
Portman  as  colonel,  marched  in  the  same  cause. 
Fletcher,  the  Scotchman,  was  appointed  to  command 
a  company  of  cavalry  under  Grey ;  but  being  badly 
mounted,  the  horse  he  had  having  been  used  for 
farming  purposes,  he  thought  at  such  a  time  he  was 
justified  in  taking  a  comrade's  Rosinante,  and  accord- 
ingly took  that  of  Dare,  without  once  signifying  his 
intention.  Dare,  as  was  very  natural,  resented  this 
liberty,  and  abused  him  in  no  very  measured  terms. 
Fletcher  bore  it  patiently,  feeling  its  justice,  till 
Dare  insolently  threatened  him  with  a  switch,  and 
shook  it  at  him ;  which  so  enraged  the  high-spirited 
and  high-born  Scot,  that  he  took  a  pistol  from  his 
pocket  and  shot  him  dead  on  the  spot. 

This  act  produced  great  confusion  in  Monmouth's 
army,  and  excited  the  greatest  indignation.  The 
idea  of  killing  a  man  for  a  few  rude  words  and  a 
threat,  was  monstrous ;  and  there  was  a  general  cry 
for  vengeance  on  the  foreigner  who  had  murdered 
an  Englishman.  Monmouth  was  unable  to  stay  the 


30  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

tumult,  and  Fletcher,  who  was  very  sorry  for  his 
hasty  conduct,  fled  from  the  ranks,  abandoned  the 
cause  altogether,  and  went  to  the  continent  on  board 
the  very  ship  which  had  brought  him  over.  On  his 
arrival  he  repaired  to  Hungary,  and  joining  an  army 
against  Christendom,  fought  bravely  against  the 
enemy. 

These  two  men  were  a  great  loss  to  Monmouth ; 
but  Lord  Grey  marched  off  with  his  regiment  of  ca- 
valry against  the  opposite  party  at  Bridgeport.  They 
had  a  skirmish,  but  the  insurgents  were  not  victori- 
ous, and  returned  after  it  as  soon  as  possible  to 
Lyme. 

This  departure  on  the  outset  gave  great  offence 
to  the  Monmouth  party,  and  they  would  have  exe- 
cuted summary  vengeance  on  him,  had  not  the  duke 
remonstrated  with  his  usual  good-natured  mildness, 
and  explained  the  disadvantages  Grey  labored  un- 
der, in  having  an  untrained  cavalry  to  contend  with, 
and  that  it  was  impossible  for  any  one  to  succeed 
under  such  circumstances — which  was  indeed  true. 

New  recruits  poured  in  daily  from  every  quarter, 
and  exercising  arms  and  drilling  occupied  all  their 
time.  The  news,  therefore,  was  soon  spread  and 
sent  to  London,  that  a  rebellion  had  commenced. 

An  army  with  Christopher  Monk,  Duke  of  Albe- 
marie,  and  son  to  George  Monk,  restorer  of  the 
Stuarts,  consisting  of  four  thousand,  was  raised, 
with  which  it  was  thought  the  insurgents  would  at 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  31 

once  be  put  down;  and  to  this  end  he  marched 
towards  Lyme.  On  the  15th  of  June  he  reached 
Axminster,  but  there  he  found  the  rebels  drawn  up 
to  oppose  him. 

The  enemy  presented  a  very  formidable  appear- 
ance, the  hedges  being  lined  with  musketeers.  But 
in  numbers  Albemarle's  army  far  exceeded  the 
rebels.  Still  he  doubted,  and  feared  the  issue ;  for 
he  knew  how  the  whole  common  people  were  pre- 
possessed in  favor  of  Monmouth.  He  therefore  soon 
retreated,  leaving  the  rebels  in  possession  of  the 
field ;  and  the  routed  army  in  their  flight  left  the 
ground  covered  with  their  arms  and  uniforms. 

This  advantage,  slight  as  it  was,  wonderfully  en- 
couraged and  delighted  Monmouth  and  his  party ; 
and  it  was  suggested  by  his  officers  to  press  on  to 
Exeter,  and  take  it  at  once.  Monmouth  could  not 
be  brought  to  agree  to  this  measure,  as  he  argued, 
and  justly,  that  his  troops  required  more  training, 
being  composed  mostly  of  persons  wholly  unused 
to  arms. 

His  moderation  and  judgment  on  every  occasion 
greatly  raised  him  in  the  estimation  of  his  followers, 
although  acting  so  frequently  against  their  wishes  ; 
which,  had  he  listened  to,  would  have  plunged  them 
into  the  most  deplorable  circumstances.  But  in  all 
things  he  felt  himself  the  ruler  and  the  monarch ; 
which  imparted  that  degree  of  dignity  to  his  charac- 
ter, always  so  imposing  in  a  superior.  He  therefore 


32  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

swayed  their  feelings,  as  the  lightest  breeze  the  as- 
pen's foliage — calm  and  noiseless,  yet  reaching  its 
most  delicate  and  distant  fibres.  His  next  move  was 
towards  Taunton,  where  they  halted  on  the  18th  of 
June. 

But  while  these  proceedings  were  going  forward, 
the  news  of  Monmouth's  landing  had  reached  the 
king  by  a  letter  from  the  mayor  of  Lyme,  in  which 
he  described  the  conduct  of  the  rebels,  their  impli- 
cation of  his  character,  as  read  in  the  proclamation 
in  the  market-place,  and  the  measures  which  had 
followed. 

The  king,  on  receiving  it,  immediately  called  a 
privy  council,  the  result  of  which  was  that  every 
company  of  foot  and  cavalry  should  at  once  be  in- 
creased. Monmouth  was  declared  guilty  of  high 
treason,  and  all  his  followers.  Meanwhile  addresses 
from  the  king's  loyal  subjects  poured  in  from  all 
quarters,  assuring  him  of  their  fidelity  and  affection, 
and  their  resolution  to  defend  him  in  every  attempt 
made  against  his  government  and  person. 

A  bill  of  attainder  soon  followed  the  meeting  of 
the  privy  council,  by  both  houses  of  parliament,  and 
the  sum  of  five  thousand  pounds  was  offered  as  a 
reward  for  the  apprehension  of  Monmouth,  as  a 
rebel,  and  the  leader  of  a  rebellion  against  the  crown 
and  government. 

Monmouth  meanwhile  was  at  Taunton,  enjoying 
in  perspective  the  prosperous  issue  of  his  enterprise, 


BRITISH     KEBF.  LI.  ION.  33 

for  a  double  energy  to  his  plans  was  imparted  to 
him  through  the  enthusiasm  of  the  inhabitants  of 
that  then  important  town,  where  to  a  man  all  were 
attached  to  the  system  which  Cromwell  had  intro- 
duced forty  years  before.  Amid  suffering  and  priva- 
tion they  had  stood  by  him ;  and  though  the  restora- 
tion had  succeeded,  in  their  hearts  they  remained 
firm  to  the  principles  he  had  established ;  and  when 
Monmouth  appeared  amongst  them,  as  one  who 
sought  to  revive  what  he  had  fought  for,  their  joy 
burst  forth  in  uncontrollable  bursts  of  delight,  and 
they  decorated  their  houses  and  their  persons  in 
wreaths,  arches  and  boughs  of  evergreen. 

One  of  their  beloved  townsmen,  named  Joseph 
Allaire,  a  pious  divine,  who  wrote  several  religious 
tracts,  had  greatly  suffered  for  the  sincerity  and  at- 
tachment he  expressed  for  the  non-conformists  during 
Cromwell's  time,  for  which  he  was  thrown  into  jail 
by  the  victorious  cavaliers.  From  thence  he  ad- 
dressed several  letters  to  his  beloved  friends  in 
Taunton,  expressive  of  his  resignation  to  the  will  of 
heaven,  and  his  love  for  those  who  took  such  a 
lively  interest  in  his  behalf. 

He  died,  at  length,  worn  out  by  the  study,  toil, 
and  privation  he  endured,  deeply  lamented  by  a 
large  number,  who  cherished  his  memory  with  feel- 
ings of  the  deepest  gratitude  and  veneration  for  the 
instruction  he  had  given  them,  and  the  fidelity  he 
cherished  to  the  last 


- 

34  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

Years  had  passed  since  this  had  occurred,  but 
their  feelings  had  deepened  with  the  lapse  of  time, 
and  hope  renewed  again  the  visions  that  had  long 
lain  dormant  in  their  breasts. 

Young  ladies  wrought  banners  for  the  noble  army 
which,  under  the  name  of  insurgents,  they  trusted, 
were  on  their  way  to  victory.  One  in  particular  was 
embroidered  purposely  for  the  duke,  on  which  were 
beautifully  inscribed  the  emblems  of  royalty.  This 
a  party  of  lovely  girls  presented  to  Monmouth  them- 
selves, who  received  it  with  that  winning  and  grace- 
ful courtesy  for  which  he  was  remarkable.  The 
procession  was  headed  by  a  lady  more  matured  than 
the  others,  who  presented  him  with  a  Bible  richly 
embellished  with  gold;  when  taking  it  reverently, 
he  exclaimed  with  fervor,  "I  come  to  defend  the 
truths  contained  in  this  holy  book,  and  to  seal  them, 
if  necessary,  with  my  blood." 

From  the  lower  and  middle  ranks  of  life  Mon- 
mouth's  popularity  was  principally  derived.  The 
higher  classes  not  only  stood  aloof,  but  expressed 
themselves  in  the  warmest  terms  hostile  to  his  pro- 
ceedings. This  annoyed,  and  often  depressed  him ; 
but  thoughts  of  her  he  loved  still  spurred  him  on, 
and  the  happiness  inwoven  with  his  ultimate  success 
lent  an  energy  and  an  impetus  to  his  actions,  which 
any  other  circumstance  connected  with  his  enterprise 
would  have  failed  to  produce,  especially  this  disaf- 
fection of  the  nobility  and  gentry  so  deeply  express- 
ed towards  him. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  35 

Still,  with  all  this  popularity  of  the  middling  and 
lower  classes,  in  distant  towns  all  remained  quiet. 
His  presence  seemed  requisite  to  excite  the  people 
and  keep  up  their  enthusiasm.  Around  the  blue  flag 
•waving  to  the  summer  breeze,  had  rallied,  at  Lyme 
and  Taunton,  people  of  every  trade,  persuasion,  and 
profession;  but  not  one  scion  of  nobility,  not  one 
member  of  the  House  of  Commons.  How  was  this 
to  be  accounted  for?  Ferguson  suggested  the  an- 
swer. In  the  position  he  had  taken,  he  appeared 
only  as  the  leader  of  a  rebel  army  fighting  against 
the  crown.  Who  of  them  would  desire  to  be  consi- 
dered as  a  follower  in  such  a  cause  ?  Few,  if  any, 
he  contended.  "  Assert,"  said  he,  "  your  claims  as 
king ;  this  will  give  a  new  face  to  things  altogether, 
and  indicate  the  rights  for  which  you  are  now  pre- 
paring to  make  war." 

Monmouth's  case,  to  every  rightly  judging  mind, 
must  present  a  most  pitiable  aspect.  In  no  one  act 
had  he  been  led  by  his  own  will.  From  the  first  the 
advice  of  others  had  swayed  him,  and  was  likely  to 
to  the  last.  The  clearness  and  forethought  which 
individual  and  unwarped  reason  gives  birth  to,  was 
in  his  case  entirely  gone.  The  tool  of  others  he  had 
commenced,  and  so  he  was  to  continue.  Ferguson's 
views  were  at  once  adopted,  and  on  the  morning  of 
the  20th  of  June  he  was  proclaimed  the  rightful 
sovereign  of  England,  under  the  name  of  King  Mon- 
mouth ;  the  Christian  name  being  waived,  as,  the 


36  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

reigning  monarch  being  called  James,  and  Monmouth 
also,  the  reason  was  obvious  why  the  rule  of  kings 
was  in  this  instance  changed. 

His  first  act  after  this  proclamation  was,  to  send 
forth  several  proclamations,  headed  with  his  sign 
manual,  and  in  one  of  them  actually  set  a  price  on 
the  head  of  James ;  in  another  he  declared  the  Par- 
liament to  be  an  unlawful  body,  and  commanded 
them  to  disperse ;  another  ordered  the  people  to 
withhold  paying  any  more  taxes  to  the  usurper ;  the 
fourth  proclaimed  Albemarle  a  traitor,  for  having 
risen  in  arms  against  the  rightful  sovereign. 

When  the  king  and  privy  council  saw  these 
proclamations,  which  had  been  immediately  forward- 
ed to  London,  they  regarded  them  with  contempt, 
and  wondered  at  the  folly  that  had  suggested  them, 
while  the  people  who  composed  his  own  followers 
looked  upon  this  assumption  of  royalty  in  anything 
but  a  favorable  light.  He  had  pledged  himself,  only 
a  week  before,  never  to  claim  the  crown  but  as  a  free 
offering  from  his  victorious  partisans;  his  word, 
therefore,  was  broken,  and  their  respect  for  him  sunk 
accordingly.  A  leader  in  any  cause  should  be  most 
tenacious  of  his  honor;  the  enthusiasm  of  nature  is 
based  on  the  highest  principle  of  truth,  and  the 
avowed  champion  of  the  Bible  should  have  held 
sacred  the  grand  basis  of  its  holy  teachings. 

Monmouth's  policy  was  not  understood,  or  known 
to  them;  and  those  for  whose  favor  he  had  pursued 

V 


BRITISH       REBELLION.  37 

such  a  perfidious  course  still  stood  aloof,  and  were 
disregardful  of  his  proceedings ;  not,  however,  from 
feeling's  of  loyalty  to  James ;  far  from  it,  but  he,  being 
now  an  old  man,  and  his  eldest  daughter  a  Protest- 
ant, and  married  to  a  prince  who  was  at  the  head  of 
the  Protestants  on  the  Continent,  they  looked  for- 
ward, at  the  demise  of  the  king,  to  the  quiet  posses- 
sion of  every  thing  the  nation  could  wish  in  the  suc- 
cessor to  the  crown.  To  avoid  the  war  which  Mon- 
mouth's  claims  entailed  had  led  them  to  withhold 
from  him  their  countenance  or  support,  as  they  felt, 
in  the  natural  course  of  things,  that  time  would  res- 
tore all  they  desired ;  their  pride  too  a  little  revolted 
at  his  pretensions ;  and  the  old  nobility  shrunk  from 
the  idea  of  an  illegitimate  scion  of  royalty  filling  the 
English  throne.  Another  reason,  made  by  those 
more  calculating  than  the  rest,  was,  that  if  Mon-- 
mouth  proved  successful,  a  war  between  him  and  the 
House  of  Orange  was  inevitable,  more  bitter,  and 
perhaps  more  lasting  than  that  which  existed  so  long 
between  the  Eoses.  Eventuating,  it  might  be,  in  a 
series  of  incalculable  miseries ;  breaking  up,  in  all 
probability,  the  Protestants  of  Europe,  and  causing 
hostile  divisions  among  them ;  then  creating  a  war, 
perhaps,  between  Holland  and  England,  which  might 
cause  both  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  France.  With 
these  ultimations  before  them,  many,  even  of  the  lead- 
ing Whigs,  wished  any  thing  but  success  to  Mon- 
mouth,  whose  victory  must,  they  feared,  of  necessity 


38  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

entail  endless  hostilities  on  the  nation,  and  his  defeat 
was  infinitely,  on  that  account,  more  desirable  than 
the  triumphant  issue  he  contemplated.  <•  *•• 

There  was  only  one  thing  which  consoled  Mon- 
mouth  under  this  continued  disaffection  of  the  aris- 
tocratic whigs,  and  that  was,  he  thought  that  the 
people  of  England  hated  popery,  and  had,  when  he 
last  appeared  before  them,  manifested  the  greatest 
attachment  to  him  for  his  Protestant  principles.  His 
mind  was  filled  with  the  hope,  during  the  whole  of 
his  voyage,  that  as  soon  as  they  heard  of  his  arrival 
they  would  at  once  raise  up  in  his  behalf,  but,  with 
all  this  show  of  affection  for  him,  notwithstanding 
his  intentions  had  been  transmitted  immediately  to 
his  former  faithful  adherents,  and  they  promised  to 
ioin  him,  they  still  remained  quiet  without  making 
one  effort  in  his  cause. 

Their  bravery,  like  that  of  many  others,  when 
danger  is  at  a  distance,  vanished  like  the  early  dew 
before  the  morning  sun,  when  it  became  near  ;  and 
they  began  to  feel  the  value  of  peace,  and  to  estimate 
its  privileges,  by  contrasting  it  with  the  horrors  at- 
tendant on  a  civil  war.  Excuses  were  poured  forth 
from  all  quarters,  and  faithlessness  vindicated  to  a 
leader  who  had,  with  such  apparent  levity,  broken 
his  solemn  pledge  to  his  followers  without  one  feel- 
ing of  either  remorse  or  shame. 


CHAPTEK    II. 


On  assuming  the  regal  title  Monmouth  passed 
through  Taunton,  Frome,  and  Bridge  water.  But  it 
was  evident  with  little  elation  at  his  new  honors.  His 
handsome  features,  on  the  contrary,  bore  the  impress 
of  both  depression  of  spirits  and  mental  suffering. 
Five  years  had  elapsed  since  he  had  last  appeared 
before  them  engaged  in  the  same  cause,  but  what  a 
great  change  had  taken  place.  A  marked  and  op- 
pressive melancholy  was  visible,  which  greatly  affect- 
ed the  faithful  people,  who  still  regarded  him  with 
feelings  of  the  deepest  affection  and  admiration,  and 
wherever  he  appeared  rent  the  air  with  shouts  and 
acclamations,  and  forgot  with  his  presence  whatever 
might  have  offended  them  before.  There  is  some- 
thing in  a  devoted  peasantry  exceedingly  touching. 
Men  of  the  world  are  most  generally  guided  by 
worldly  expectations  of  gain  or  hopes  of  aggrandise- 
ment in  their  actions,  but  a  guileless  peasantry  are 
led  solely  by  the  heart.  Surrounded  by  rural  influ- 
ences and  nature's  loveliness,  when  summer  bloom 
spreads  her  mantle  of  beauty  o'er  hill  and  glade,  and 
wood  and  grove  were  vocal  with  songs  of  harmony 


40  BRITISH    REBELLION. 

and  love,  Monmouth  was  peculiarly  alive  to  the  feel- 
ings which  the  scenes  and  circumstances  so  naturally 
called  forth ;  and  the  devotion  of  those  tillers  of  the 
soil  caused  more  sadness  than  rejoicing.  Had  he 
the  prospect  of  requiting  their  faithfulness  and  zeal 
it  would  have  been  different,  but  they  had  more  love 
than  strength ;  and  if  they  failed,  how  fearful  was 
the  result!  He  looked  to  that  side  more  than  to 
the  other. 

The  gloom,  I  have  generally  thought,  which  over- 
shadows the  spirit,  is  often  prophetic.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  well  sometimes  to  listen  to  its  wail  and  be- 
hold in,  it  a  warning  for  the  future.  But  Monmouth 
was  the  tool  of  others. 

In  Bridgewater  a  few  whig  magistrates  and  al- 
dermen came  forth  in  their  robes  to  welcome  his  ap- 
proach, and  to  form  a  procession,  which  halted  at 
the  cross,  and  then  proclaimed  him  king.  The  peo- 
ple there  also  furnished  his  troops  handsomely,  pro- 
viding them  with  every  abundance  at  a  trifling  ex- 
pense. They  were  stationed  at  the  Castle  field,  the 
duke  himself  occupying  the  castle,  always  the  resi- 
dence of  royalty  when  visiting  the  town. 

Monmouth,  however,  labored  under  great  disad- 
vantages. His  army  consisted  of  six  thousand  men, 
and  double  that  number  would  have  enrolled  them- 
selves as  his  followers,  but  he  had  no  armory  for 
them.  All  he  brought  with  him  from  the  Continent 
were  already  in  the  hands  of  his  soldiers,  and  those 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  41 

who  joined  them  now  had  to  provide  themselves 
with  such  implements  as  they  used  on  their  farms 
or  in  their  trades,  as  no  others  could  be  obtained. 
Large  scythes  were  fastened  to  long  poles,  and  all 
the  country  was  put  in  requisition  for  them,  yet 
enough  could  not  be  found  to  meet  the  demand,  and 
thousands,  on  this  account,  had  to  give  up  their 
hopes  of  fighting  for  one  to  whom,  in  heart  and 
soul,  they  were  so  much  bound. 

It  will  be  readily  supposed  that  his  army  made 
but  a  poor  appearance.  Many  of  them  wearing  their 
civil  dress,  resembling  workmen  going  to  labor  more 
than  soldiers,  while  the  cavalry,  mounted  on  half 
broken  colts,  presented  a  forlorn  spectacle  indeed  to 
build  hopes  of  success  upon;  for  the  firing  of  a  gun 
frightened  them  into  such  disorder  that  often  they 
became  perfectly  unmanageable.  Yet  Ferguson  was 
all  elation  and  spirit,  encouraging  Monmouth  to  pro- 
ceed, infusing  courage  and  enthusiasm  into  the  sol- 
diery, laughing  at  the  government  for  putting  a  price 
on  the  head  of  a  man  who  defied  them  and  all  their 
power,  and  inciting  with  all  these  disadvantages  one, 
who  left  to  his  own  judgment,  would  have  abandon- 
ed all  further  hopes  of  success  in  his  enterprise,  with 
the  aid  before  him,  and  fled.  But  Ferguson's  wishes 
blinded  his  reason,  or  assuredly  he  would  have  act- 
ed a  different  part.  He  was  a  dissenter,  and  had  been 
a  preacher,  and  longed  above  all  things  to  destroy 
the  popish  administration  of  James  the  Second. 

8* 


42 


BRITISH     REBELLION. 


Forty  young  men,  well  mounted  at  their  own 
expense,  composed  the  body-guard  of  Mon  mouth, 
who  delighted  in  the  service  in  which  they  had  en- 
listed. Thus  was  mingled  in  the  bitter  cup  many 
sweets  from  which  the  duke  derived  enerscv  to 
proceed,  while  Lady  Wentworth's  commendations 
breathed  all  the  poetry  of  the  most  devoted  affection, 
and  described  her  sole  joy  to  consist  in  the  night 
dream  she  had  fostered,  of  seeing  him  possessor  of 
the  crown  and  throne  of  England,  and  sharing  it 
with  her.  Monmouth's  chief  interest  lay  in  Somer- 
setshire ;  and  from  his  friends  in  Bridgewater  espe- 
cially he  had  been  supplied  with  some  money  for  the 
contingencies  of  war.  But  beyond  Somersetshire  the 
royal  armies  were  in  active  preparation,  with  per- 
sons at  their  head  whose  influence  was  of  a  most  for- 
midable description.  Wealth  and  rank  united  their 
forces,  and  commotion  pervaded  every  section  of 
the  country. 

The  Duke  of  Beaufort,  a  staunch  loyalist,  head- 
ed an  army  on  the  north-east,  a  man  whose  vast 
wealth  and  popularity  resembled  the  barons  who 
flourished  in  so  much  power  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  who,  on  this  occasion,  enlisted  all  within 
his  command  for  the  support  of  the  crown.  And 
that  interest  combined  in  itself  four  counties,  of 
which  he  was  Lord  Lieutenant,  besides  being  Presi- 
dent of  Wales,  where  also  the  name  of  Beaufort  ral- 
lied around  him  its  stalwart  peasantry  and  its  flour- 


BRITISH    REBELLION.  43 

ishing  yeomen.  The  force  he  possessed  was  enor- 
mous, for  he  might  be  said  almost  to  be  regarded  in 
the  light  of  a  sovereign  of  his  vast  dominions  ;  mov- 
ing about  wherever  he  went  with  scarcely  less  pomp 
than  royalty  itself.  His  household  was  conducted 
on  the  same  magnificent  scale,  and  the  elegance  and 
splendor  of  his  abode  at  Badmington  is  said  to  have 
been  grand  and  imposing  in  the  highest  degree. 
Some  idea  of  it  may  be  formed  from  his  spreading 
wine  tables  every  day  for  the  entertainment  of  at 
least  two  hundred  persons.  His  steward  had  under 
his  command  a  large  number  of  pages  and  gentle- 
men ;  a  troop  of  cavalry  were  at  the  service  of  the 
master  of  the  horse,  while  the  kitchen  and  cellar 
appointments  were  without  a  parallel  in  that  part  of 
the  country.  All  these  things  tended  to  a  wide- 
spread celebrity  of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort's  magnifi- 
cence, while  his  character  for  affability  and  amiabi- 
lity were  universally  acknowledged.  And  this  man, 
with  his  great  power,  stood  prepared  to  give  battle 
to  Monmouth,  whom  he  regarded  in  the  light  of  an 
impertinent  invader  of  the  nation  and  the  rights  of 
sovereignty ;  and  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  also  had 
summoned  a  body  of  the  Devonshire  militia,  which 
he  stationed  on  the  west  of  the  rebel  army  ;  and  on 
the  east  were  the  trainbands  of  Wiltshire,  command- 
ed by  the  Earl  of  Pembroke.  Bristol  was  occupied 
by  the  trainbands  of  Gloucestershire,  stationed  there 
by  the  Duke  of  Beaufort.  Added  to  these,  the  Sus- 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


sex  militia  commenced  their  march  westward,  under 
Lord  Lumly,  who,  though  himself  a  Protestant,  re- 
cently converted  from  Catholicism,  was  still  a  royal- 
ist, and  unhesitatingly  took  his  post  as  a  defender  of 
his  king.  The  Earl  of  Abingdon  headed  the  Oxford- 
shire company,  and  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  Dean 
of  Christ  Church  called  out  all  the  undergraduates 
of  the  University  to  a  man,  to  unite  in  arms  for  the 
support  of  the  monarch  at  this  cricis,  who,  obeying 
his  wishes  on  the  instant,  crowded  at  once  to  give 
their  names,  full  of  enthusiastic  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
their  king,  and  respect  for  their  commander.  Christ 
Church  yielded  nearly  two  hundred  musketeers  and 
pikemen,  while  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen  were 
appointed  to  act  as  officers  to  them. 

Monmouth's  strength,  when  compared  to  the  roy- 
alists, therefore  presented  an  inequality  of  the  most 
startling  character,  and  nothing  but  the  success  of 
Cromwell  in  a  similar  undertaking,  could  have  in- 
duced his  party  to  proceed.  But  Cromwell  and  Mon- 
mouth's  characters  were  widely  different.  Cromwell's 
whole  heart  was  in  the  cause  for  which  he  fought : 
no  secondary  consideration  swayed  him,  no  voice  or 
mind  of  another  purposed  for  him.  His  gigantic  in- 
tellect grasped  the  idea,  and  then  organized  his  plans, 
with  system  and  forethought  for  their  accomplish- 
ment, with  that  soul-like  energy  which  persons  filled 
with  the  high  responsibilities  of  elevated  situations 
can  alone  appreciate.  The  step  he  had  taken  seemed 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  45 

a  duty  he  owed  his  country  and  his  God.  His  con- 
science might  be  said  to  impel  his  every  action, 
and  to  it  was  owing  the  perfect  order  which  reign- 
ed among  troops,  that,  like  their  master,  saw  God's 
approval  in  all  they  did. 

He  was  styled  a  fanatic,  from  the  religious  zeal 
which  characterized  all  his  doings.  Many  have  ques- 
tioned his  sincerity,  and  attributed  the  vilest  hypo- 
crisy to  all  his  actions.  But  hypocrisy  was  never 
known  to  produce  such  results.  The  sanctity  of  his 
soldiers,  the  humanity  and  propriety  which  distin- 
guished them  from  all  others  of  their  class,  has  been 
and  will  be  handed  down  to  posterity  while  the 
world  stands.  Cromwell  went  forth  to  battle  with  a 
singleness  of  mind  which  rarely  fails  in  its  object, 
while  Monmouth,  with  the  enjoyment  of  the  end 
only  in  view,  looked  more  to  chance  than  means  for 
success ;  to  the  gratification  of  the  ambitious  desires 
of  a  vain  and  foolish  woman,  more  than  to  any  be- 
neficial issue,  either  to  the  nation  or  himself.  But 
his  followers  saw  in  him  another  Cromwell,  and  his 
good  fortune  stimulated  and  cheered  their  every 
movement,  and  excited  hopes  against  all  possible 
suggestions  to  the  contrary. 

Monmouth  continued  to  delay  taking  any  de- 
cisive step,  which  of  course  was  giving  every 
chance  to  the  king  to  collect,  from  all  quarters,  his 
regular  troops.  In  addition  to  those  already  cited, 
two  regiments,  commanded  by  Feversham  and 


40  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

Churchill,  were  marching  from  London  towards  So- 
mersetshire, to  meet  the  rebel  army ;  and  despatches 
had  been  sent  to  Holland,  ordering  Skelton  to  re- 
quest that  the  three  English  regiments  stationed 
there,  in  the  Dutch  service,  might  be  sent  immediate- 
ly to  England.  The  Prince  of  Orange,  on  hearing 
this  rebellious  movement  of  Monmouth,  was  much 
struck,  and  his  own  interest  being  as  much  at  stake 
as  that  even  of  the  king  himself,  lost  no  time  in 
giving  information  to  the  authorities  of  Amsterdam 
of  the  necessities  which  had  caused  this  demand,  and 
to  urge  their  immediate  compliance  with  the  royal 
request.  They  demurred  greatly  at  first,  but  finally 
agreed,  and  in  a  few  days  the  troops  sailed  for  the 
port  of  London. 

This  arrival  gave  great  delight  to  the  king,  but 
though  they  had  come  ostensibly  to  serve  him,  in 
their  hearts  they  loved  the  cause  of  Monmouth,  be- 
ing most  of  them  Protestants,  and  therefore  hating 
Popery.  During  their  private  or  social  meetings, 
when  the  hilarity  of  the  hour  caused  them  to  forget 
that  on  all  sides  spies  surrounded  them,  they  drank 
Monmouth's  health.  Two  of  them,  who  had  given 
utterance  to  the  toast,  were  informed  against,  and 
the  result  was  that  one  was  hanged,  and  the  other 
barbarously  and  severely  flogged,  as  examples  to  the 
others.  Their  disaffection  to  the  king  was  by  these 
means  greatly  increased,  so  much  so  that  it  was  not 
deemed  advisable  to  send  them  against  the  insur- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  47 

gents.  They  were  therefore  retained  in  London,  to 
supply  the  places  of  others  before  stationed  there, 
who  were  altogether  loyalists,  and  who  were  dis- 
patched to  join  the  other  regiments  towards  Bridge- 
water. 

While  the  king  thus  went  on  strengthening  his 
forces  from  every  possible  source,  every  means  to 
weaken  those  of  Monmouth  were  used.  A  rgreat 
number  of  whigs  were  arrested  and  thrown  into 
prison,  lest  they  might  form  an  addition  to  his  army. 
Men  of  wealth  and  standing,  and  leading  blameless 
lives,  without  one  hostile  movement  towards  the 
government,  were  among  those  who,  torn  from  their 
families,  and  their  occupations  and  pleasures,  were 
incarcerated  because  they  were  in  favor  of  the  Pro- 
testant religion,  and  from  that  cause  were  supposed 
to  be  friends  of  Monmouth. 

All  London  at  that  time  wore  an  aspect  of  gloom ; 
every  kind  of  business  was  suspended,  the  theatres 
were  deserted,  and  the  most  talented  representations 
of  no  account.  The  realities  which  surrounded  the 
people  were  of  too  saddening  a  nature  to  allow  their 
minds  to  be  interested  in  anything  of  an  imaginary 
character.  The  English  are  deep  thinkers,  and  un- 
like their  French  neighbors,  amusement  under  any 
circumstances  is  rarely  made  a  business ;  with  them 
it  is  the  recreation  of  an  idle  hour,  and  hence  the 
different  character  of  their  amusements.  Gravity  is 
the  characteristic  of  both  the  music  and  the  enter- 


48  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

tainments  of  the  French  people,  though  themselves 
lively  even  to  levity ;  while  the  English,  who  are  in 
reality  a  grave  people,  are  proverbial  for  their  mirth- 
loving  propensities. 

The  dissenters  throughout  the  nation  suffered 
great  persecution,  and  prisons  were  filling  fast  with 
the  unhappy  victims;  every  minister  feared,  how- 
ever innocent  of  hostile  feelings  to  the  government, 
and  however  blameless  his  conduct,  that  he  would 
be  rent  from  his  home  and  family,  and  thrown  into 
jail.  That  of  Oxford  was  already  full  of  these  un- 
happy culprits,  as  they  were  called,  where  they  lan- 
guished, with  no  hope  before  them  in  the  event  of 
Mon  mouth's  defeat. 

Churchill  arrived  at  Bridgewater,  and  at  once 
commenced  harassing  the  enemy.  Monmouth,  on 
seeing  this,  thought  it  advisable  to  leave  Bridgewater, 
and  with  his  army  commenced  the  march.  Churchill 
with  his  regiment  followed ;  they  were  a  small  num- 
ber compared  with  that  of  Monmouth 's  troops,  but 
their  leader  was  a  skilful  general,  and  under  his  or- 
ders they  annoyed  the  insurgents  greatly.  Added 
to  this,  the  roads  were  extremely  muddy  and  heavy ; 
for  a  night's  rain,  refreshing  and  grateful  to  the 
parched  herbage  in  the  highest  degree,  had  so  drench- 
ed everything  that  they  were  unable  to  make  much 
progress.  A  day's  march  only  brought  them  as  far 
as  Glastonbury,  where  they  halted  for  the  night. 
Here  they  found  much  difficulty  in  getting  accom- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  49 

modations,  for  the  town  was  small,  and  houses  of 
entertainment  few ;  they  were  therefore  obliged  to 
sleep  in  barns  and  out-houses,  and  many  of  them  in 
the  abbey,  then  fallen  into  decay,  and  amid  its  ivied 
walls  and  cloisters,  now  become  the  abode  of  owls 
and  bats,  to  seek  the  only  place  of  shelter  that  re- 
mained to  them  for  their  tired  limbs  to  rest  in.  In 
the  morning  they  again  collected,  and,  amid  the 
good  wishes  of  all  the  unsophisticated  dwellers  of 
the  town  and  country  around,  who  regarded  Mon- 
mouth  as  the  defender  of  all  that  was  dear  to  their 
hearts,  they  sat  out  with  a  view  of  first  laying 
siege  at  Bristol,  as  he  thought  it  high  time  to  organ- 
ise some  plan  of  action.  Many  whigs,  he  knew,  of 
high  standing,  holding  important  situations,  resided 
there.  The  garrison  was  not  very  formidable,  con- 
sisting only  of  the  Trainbands  of  Gloucestershire. 
The  Duke  of  Beaufort's  muster  of  peasantry  and 
yeomanry  might,  he  thought,  be  easily  vanquished 
before  the  king's  soldiers  could  arrive.  So  with  this 
pleasant  hope  they  marched  vigorously  forward ;  as, 
in  the  event  of  achieving  this  victory,  their  pecu- 
niary means  would  be  greatly  augmented,  and  this 
defeat  add  that  degree  of  glory  to  their  enterprise 
which  would  act  on  the  country  like  magic,  and 
cause  those  whigs  who  had  felt  reluctant  to  join  him 
through  fear,  to  flock  at  once  to  his  standard. 

The  fortifications  on  the  north  of  Bristol  were 
very  weak  on  the  Gloucestershire  side,  while  those 


'"   p 
-.    f 

50  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

towards  Somersetsliire,  on  the  south,  presented  an 
aspect  of  great  strength.  It  was  concluded,  there- 
fore, to  make  the  attack  on  the  north  side,  but 
difficulties  attended  the  measure ;  the  Somersetshire 
side  was  only  five  miles  from  Pensford,  where  they 
then  were,  while  the  north  side,  towards  Gloucester- 
shire, would  take  a  whole  day's  march  to  reach,  and 
they  would  have  to  take  a  circuitous  route  to  Keyn- 
sham  across  the  Aron,  once  a  bridge  which  had  been 
nearly  broken  down  by  militia,  and  rendered  too 
dangerous  to  venture  upon.  They  had  therefore  to 
wait  until  the  bridge  was  repaired. 

Monmouth's  partizans  in  Bristol  had  been  in- 
formed of  his  intentions,  and  great  tumult  prevailed 
among  them.  All  was  anxiety  and  expectation.  He 
was  almost  in  sight  of  the  city,  and  the  whole  night 
they  determined  to  watch  for  his  coming.  As  some 
of  them  wandered  about  the  quay,  towards  sunset, 
a  cry  of  fire  sounded  through  the  shipping,  and  the 
greatest  consternation  and  terror  in  a  short  time  pre- 
vailed. The  shipping  was  of  great  extent,  and  one 
of  the  vessels,  amid  that  forest  of  masts,  was  en- 
veloped in  flames  and  smoke.  The  alarm  soon 
spread,  thousands  flocked  to  assist  and  witness  the 
alarming  spectacle,  completely  absorbed  in  contem- 
plating the  awful  result  of  its  spreading.  The  streets 
were  filled  with  citizens  hastening  to  the  spot,  and 
the  river  was  filled  with  boats.  The  whole  town  was 
in  commotion.  Cries  of  war,  treason,  fire,  murder, 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  51 

rang  through  the  excited  multitude,  but  amid  all 
the  confusion  and  uproar,  none  of  Beaufort's  men 
stirred.  The  news  of  Monmouth's  intention  had  be- 
come known,  and  they  had  received  their  com- 
mander's orders  to  remain  quiet,  for  that  he  would 
sooner  see  the  whole  city  consumed  than  that  trai- 
tors should  possess  it.  The  fire  was  supposed  to 
have  been  artfully  contrived  by  Monmouth's  friends, 
who  imagined  the  imminent  danger  which  such  a 
circumstance  threatened  would  call,  not  only  all  the 
civil,  but  all  the  military  force  together  by  surprise 
and  fear,  and  thus  facilitate  Monmouth's  project  of 
entering  the  city  while  they  were  thus  scattered. 
But  Beaufort's  generalship  was  not  thus  to  be 
diverted ;  he  too  kept  watch  all  night  on  the  banks 
of  the  Avon,  and  his  strength  had  been  considerably 
increased  by  the  arrival  of  a  troop  of  cavalry  from 
Cheppenham,  by  which  he  hoped  to  suppress  the 
insurrection,  both  within  and  without  the  gates ;  but 
all  remained  quiet,  the  fire  had  been  extinguished, 
and  the  citizens  had  quietly  dispersed. 

Monmouth  had  remained,  with  a  great  part  of 
his  troops,  at  Pensford,  from  which  he  had  seen  the 
fire;  he  kept  there  till  the  morning  dawned,  and 
then  set  forth  for  Keynsham,  where,  the  bridge 
being  repaired,  they  could  have  passed  over,  but  he 
thought  it  advisable  to  let  his  army  rest  until  even- 
ing, and  when  the  shadows  of  night  had  closed  in,  to 
proceed  to  Bristol  and  make  the  attack. 


* 

52  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

All  this  delay  was  against  Monmoutli ;  the  king's 
troops,  horse  and  foot  regiments,  were  close  on  him. 
The  first  that  arrived  at  Kejnsham  was  one  com- 
manded by  Col.  Oglethorpe,  who  at  once  dashed  in 
among  the  rebels,  and  on  their  trying  to  oppose  him, 
inflicted  great  injury  and  produced  great  discomfi- 
ture among  them.  They  were  only  two  hundred  in 
number,  and  having  accomplished  their  object,  re- 
tired with  very  little  damage  on  their  part. 
>v~  This  attack,  with  the  knowledge  that  the  royal 
troops  were  near  at  hand,  changed  Monmouth's 
views  with  regard  to  taking  Bristol  altogether.  Had 
he  commenced  before  they  arrived  it  would  have 
been  different,  but  now  he  saw  nothing  but  failure 
in  the  attempt.  His  spirits  were  much  depressed, 
and  abandonment  would  have  been  his  choice,  had 
not  Ferguson,  with  his  usual  tempting  and  exciting 
language,  caused  him  to  rally  and  form  new  plans 
for  the  future.  The  first  of  which  was  to  march  for- 
ward to  Glocestershire,  cross  the  Severn,  and  on 
their  arrival  on  the  opposite  side,  immediately  de- 
molish the  bridge,  and  by  this  means  effectually 
prevent  the  enemy  from  following.  Then  proceed 
along  the  banks  of  the  river  till  they  reached  Wor- 
cestershire, and  from  thence  march  on  to  Shropshire 
and  Cheshire.  The  end  proposed  in  doing  this  was 
to  gain  troops,  as  in  these  counties  he  knew  the  sen- 
timents of  the  people  were  favorable  towards  him. 
But  to  plan  is  one  thing  and  to  execute  another;  his 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  53 

army  were  in   anything  but  a  condition  for  such 
a  course,  their  shoes  were  much   worn  by   their 
marches  through  the  mud  on  the  preceding  days, 
and  followed,  as  they  knew  they  would  be,  by  the 
enemy;  under  these  disadvantages  and  the  fatigue 
they  felt,  they  opposed  the  proposition  so  eloquently, 
that  Monmouth  yielded.     Beside,  they  argued,  if  the 
king's  troops,  now  so  far  outnumbering  his,  were  to 
press  after  them  in  order  to  bring  them  to  battle,  all 
hopes  of  success  were  entirely  over,  as  they  must  be 
overpowered.    What  they  required  more  than  any- 
thing was  a  muster,  as  nothing  farther  could  be  done 
if  their  number  was  not  increased.     Some  of  Mon- 
mouth's  followers  from  the  county  of  Wiltshire  ex- 
patiated largely  on  the  interest  the  people  felt  for 
him  there,  and  suggested  marching  immediately  in 
that  direction,  as  the  best  thing  they  could  do. 
Grey  and  Ferguson  approved  of  the  suggestion,  and 
the  duke,  ever  ready  to  rely  more  on  the  judgment 
of  others  than  his  own,  readily  coincided  with  them. 
Having  decided  thus,  they  commenced  their  march, 
and  reaching  Bath,  concluded  to  make  an  attack, 
but  a  strong  garrison  having  already  been  made  by 
the  king's  forces,  they  had  to  give   up  that  idea. 
Fevershaw's  troops  they  also  found  fast  approach- 
ing, so  again  they  marched  forward  till  the  evening, 
when  reaching  Philips-Norton  they  resolved  to  re- 
main and  rest  for  the  night. 

To  this  place  Lord  Fevershaw  followed  them, 


54  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

coming  in  sight  about  day-break ;  they  at  once  col- 
lected, and  to  prevent  his  entering  lined  the  hedges 
on  either  side  of  the  entrance  to  the  town.  First 
came  the  advanced  guard  of  the  royal  army,  with 
his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Grafton  at  their  head — 
eldest  son  of  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland;  he  wore  a 
very  determined  and  resolute  air,  with  manners 
rough  and  unpolished  in  the  highest  degree.-*  He 
was  some  years  younger  than  Monmouth,  but 
seemed  resolved  that  no  consideration  of  consangui- 
nity should  influence  him,  and  he  marched  boldly 
forward  through  the  lane,  embowered  with  trees, 
whose  thick  foliage  prevented  his  seeing  anything 
through  them.  Behind  these  the  rebel  army  poured 
forth  a  constant  volley  of  musketry,  but  undismayed 
they  marched  on  to  the  town,  where  a  barricade  ar- 
rested their  further  progress,  and  a  heavy  fire  poured 
again  into  their  ranks,  completely  discomfited  them, 
and  a  thousand  or  more  being  killed,  Grafton,  with 
all  the  rebels  opposition,  cut  his  way  through  and 
fled. 

This  small  victory  gave  renewed  courage  to  Mon- 
mouth; and  the  royal  guard  being  thus  routed, 
joined  the  main  body  of  the  king's  forces,  and  the 
armies  again  met.  A  few  shots  were  exchanged, 
but  neither  sought  to  give  battle.  Fevershaw 
thought  it  advisable  to  wait  until  the  militia  should 
join  him,  and  retreated  a  short  distance,  to  a  place 
called  Bradford.  Thus  closed  another  day;  and 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  55 

when  night  came  Monmouth  set  forward  towards 
Frorae,  in  Somersetshire,  to  gain  new  troops,  as  he 
knew  he  was  popular  there.  This  was  true,  but  dis- 
appointment awaited  him  notwithstanding.  He  was 
proclaimed  king  a  few  days  before  in  the  market- 
place, and  the  news  reaching  the  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
who  being  near  at  hand  with  the  Wiltshire  militia, 
marched  at  once  to  Frome,  dispersed  the  rustics  who 
had  risen  in  opposition  to  him,  and  took  away  all 
the  scythes  and  pitchforks  with  which  they  had 
armed  themselves.  Not  content  with  this,  he  seized 
on  all  the  arms  of  the  inhabitants,  so  that  not  a 
weapon  remained  in  the  town,  and  Monmouth  had 
none  to  give  them. 

This  produced  a  general  panic.  "Wearied  with 
fatigue  of  body,  from  the  heavy  marching  of  the  pre- 
ceding night  through  a  country  saturated  from  the 
quantities  of  rain  which  had  fallen,  almost  bare- 
foot, and  now  this  sad  disappoirment  to  contend 
with,  their  spirits  almost  entirely  failed  them.  But 
their  beloved  commander's  presence  still  encouraged 
them,  though  no  cheering  news  from  Wiltshire, 
that  last  hope,  had  reached  them.  Thus  every 
thing  wore  a  dreary  aspect,  and  many  a  brave  heart 
sunk  before  this  array  of  dark  appearances.  Mon- 
mouth seemed  absolutely  overcome  with  despair, 
and  reproached  himself  and  his  advisers  in  the 
most  bitter  terms.  His  lovely  retirement  at  Bra- 
bant rose  in  all  its  beauty  of  peaceful  quiet,  and 


5G  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

happy  love,  in  sad  contrast  to  the  present  perilous 
situation  in  which  he  was  placed;  and  he  would 
have  fled  at  once,  leaving  all  behind  him,  had  not 
the  expostulations  of  Ferguson  and  Lord  Grey  pre- 
vented. They  represented  the  miserable  condition  of 
his  faithful  followers  if  he  did  so,  and  the  certain 
doom  which  would  be  theirs  on  being  left  to  the 
mercy  of  the  enemy.  And  what  a  return  for  their 
having  left  their  peaceful  dwellings,  their  smiling 
corn-fields  and  happy  families,  to  follow  and  serve 
him.  His  feelings  were  touched,  and  he  resolved, 
come  what  might,  to  stand  to  his  cause  and  to  them 
to  the  last. 

Feversham,  it  was  reported,  had  been  joined  by 
reinforcements,  and  was  advancing  to  meet  him ;  but 
his  troops  had  received  no  addition,  the  only  hope 
which  had  sustained  him  for  several  days.  Under 
these  discouragements  the  insurgents  knew  not  what 
to  plan,  what  course  to  take,  but  their  decision  was 
made  by  a  most  unexpected  and  cheering  event. 
News  reached  them  that  the  peasantry  at  Axbridge 
had  become  excited  by  hearing  of  his  champeonage 
in  the  cause  of  the  Protestant  religion,  and  had  risen 
en  masse  to  meet  him  at  Bridgewater,  armed  with 
their  most  formidable  farm  weapons,  such  as  pitch- 
forks, pikes,  scythes,  bludgeons  and  flails.  This  was 
indeed  cheering.  They  at  once  resolved  to  go  forth 
to  meet  these  gallant  spirits,  and  commenced  their 
march  back  again  to  Bridgewater.  On  their  way 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  57 

they  passed  through  Wells,  where,  in  order  to  pro- 
vide themselves  with  bullets,  they  tore  the  lead  from 
the  roof  of  the  Catholic  cathedral  there,  and  not  con- 
tent with  this,  defaced  the  building  by  other  acts 
which  no  necessity  sanctioned.  In  the  excited  state 
of  their  feelings,  which  the  sight  of  this  Papal  edifice 
called  forth,  they  would  even  have  torn  down  the 
altar,  had  not  some  of  their  leaders  interposed,  and 
stood  before  it,  sword  in  hand,  to  protect  it.  From 
Wells  they  proceeded  to  Bridgewater,  but  the  expec- 
tations they  had  formed  were  again  doomed  to  dis- 
appointment, as,  on  their  arrival,  they  found  the 
number  exceedingly  small  in  comparison  with  the 
anticipations  they  had  indulged  in  respecting  this 
addition  to  their  troops. 

The  royal  army  was  very  near,  consisting  of  two 
thousand  five  hundred  regulars  and  fifteen  hundred 
militia  from  Wiltshire;  and  the  fifth  of  July,  on 
the  early  dawn  of  a  Sabbath  morning,  they  proceed- 
ed from  Somerton  to  the  plain  of  Sedgemoor,  which 
stood  about  three  miles  from  Bridgewater.  A  Pro- 
testant bishop  accompanied  them — the  bishop  of 
Winchester.  When  young  he  had  fought  in  the 
army  of  Charles  the  First  against  Cromwell,  and 
now,  though  in  the  vale  of  years,  his  loyalty,  and 
perhaps  a  love  of  martial  glory  still  lingering  in  his 
heart,  caused  him  to  present  himself  in  the  king's 
camp,  with  a  purpose  that  did  honor  to  himself  and 
his  Christian  calling.  He  thought  his  presence  might 

4 


58  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

stimulate  those  who,  vacillating  between  Papacy  and 
Protestantism,  might  take  heart  and  save  themselves 
from  the  fate  which  he  saw  but  too  probably  awaited 
the  rebels.  The  enemy's  position  being  communicat- 
ed to  Monmouth,  still  in  the  town  of  Bridgewater, 
he,  with  Grey  and  Ferguson,  went  up  in  the  church 
tower,  one  of  exceeding  height,  and  commanding  an 
extensive  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  to  see 
the  encampment,  where,  with  the  aid  of  a  telescope, 
he  beheld  them  all. 


CHAPTE.B    III. 


Sedgemoor,  as  its  name  imports,  was  at  one  time 
a  complete  marsh.  The  parent  river  ran  through  it, 
and  when  the  rains  were  heavy  it  overflowed  its 
banks  to  a  considerable  extent :  and  this  place  was 
probably  selected  by  the  king's  army  from  that 
cause,  as  we  have  it  upon  record  that  this  ground 
had  prevented  two  armies  in  succession  from  invad- 
ing the  country — "  the  Celts  against  the  kings  of 
"Wessex,"  and  the  Danes  when  pursuing  Alfred. 
At  that  time  boats  were  used  to  cross  it,  as  it 
presented  the  appearance  of  a  large  pool  or  lake, 
and  the  treacherous  nature  of  the  soil  rendered  it 
unsafe  for  strangers  to  attempt  fording  it,  as  in  some 
parts  it  would  swallow  up  whatever  rested  on  it ;  so 
that  no  one  dared  venture  to  cross  it  at  such  seasons, 
without  such  assistance.  There  were  several  islets, 
covered  with  sedge  and  wild  marsh  shrubs,  where 
swine  and  deer  herded,  and  not  many  years  before 
this  period  the  traveller  who  wished  to  visit  Bridge- 
water  had  to  take  a  circuitous  route  to  avoid  this 


60  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

dangerous  place.  When  Monmouth,  however,  visited 
it,  many  improvements  had  taken  place;  it  had  been 
partially  drained,  and  on  several  parts  of  the  moor 
villages  and  village  churches  could  be  distinctly 
seen.  The  names  given  them  were  indicative  of 
their  watery  situation  heretofore,  one  of  them  being 
western  Zoyland,  where  Feversham,  with  the  royal 
troops  of  cavalry  lay.  This  was  his  head-quarters, 
and  an  old  woman  now  living  there  knew  the  girl 
who  waited  on  him,  a  circumstance  corroborated  by 
several  of  her  aged  neighbors,  by  whom  are  also 
shown,  in  a  state  of  high  preservation,  part  of  the 
dinner  service  from  which  he  ate. 

The  historian,  in  travelling  through  Somerset- 
shire, will  find  relics  like  these  frequently,  among  a 
people  of  almost  primitive  simplicity,  where  genera- 
tion after  generation  occupying  the  same  farm,  tra- 
ditions and  circumstances  have  been  handed  down, 
till  their  memories  furnished  data  and  events  of  the 
most  interesting  character  to  those  who  seek  a  know- 
ledge of  the  past. 

At  another  village,  called  Middlezoy,  a  company 
of  militia  took  up  their  quarters,  from  Wiltshire, 
under  the  command  of  Qol.  Lord  Pembroke;  and  on 
the  open  part  of  Sedgemoor  were  several  of  the 
king's  troops  of  infantry.  Monmouth  surveyed  all 
these  from  the  town,  with  a  fainting  spirit ;  for  what 
were  his  simple,  untutored  followers  to  those  who 


• 

BRITISH      REBELLION.  61 


had  been  trained  to  the  service  of  war  ?  True,  there 
was  no  lack  of  zeal  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  had 
left  their  all  to  serve  him,  and  now  stood  ready  to 
stake  their  lives  in  the  battle  that  was  so  soon  to 
commence  ;  but  in  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  he  could 
discern  many  who  had  been  with  him  when  they 
drove  the  defenders  of  Bothwell  bridge  from  their 
posts,  dispersing  them,  in  their  blind  enthusiasm, 
like  mist  before  the  sun.  There  stood,  too,  the  very 
men  called  Dumbarton's  regiment,  whose  known 
bravery  had  distinguished  them  all  over  the  world. 
"  Ah  1"  he  exclaimed,  "  did  they  but  fight  in  my 
cause,  my  fears  would  soon  vanish,  and  confidence 
impart  to  my  sinking  soul  the  comfort  and  consola- 
tion I  now  seek  in  vain.  Henrietta,"  he  soliloquised, 
"in  how  fearful  a  position  has  my  love  for  you 
placed  me!" 

The  three  stations  of  the  enemy  were,  Zoyland, 
where  the  cavalry  were  quartered ;  at  Middlezoy, 
some  leagues  distant,  stood  a  company  of  militia ; 
and  near  Chedzoy,  another  village,  were  the  regular 
troops.  Their  being  so  far  apart,  Monmouth  consi- 
dered by  no  means  unfavorable  to  him,  and  some- 
thing like  a  feeling  of  hope  arose  in  his  breast  as  he 
surveyed  their  divided  ranks.  Their  thin  appearance 
indicated,  he  thought,  a  careless  negligence  widely 
different  from  what  might  be  expected  from  people 
on  the  eve  of  battle ;  and  reports  had  reached  Bridge- 


62  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

water  that  the  soldiers  under  Feversham  were  in- 
dulging  in  large  potations  of  the  cider  which  that 
part  of  the  country  produced  in  such  abundance. 

Monmouth  descended  from  the  tower,  notwith- 
standing the  favorable  observations  he  tried  to  think 
he  had  made,  with  a  sad,  foreboding  heart ;  and  on 
consulting  with  Grey  and  Ferguson,  concluded  to 
make  the  attack  in  the  night.  Meanwhile  his  troops 
had  collected  in  the  grounds  of  the  castle,  and  form- 
ing into  bands,  had  commenced  religious  exercises 
suitable  to  the  day.  The  weather  was  beautiful,  and 
all  nature  breathed  of  loveliness  and  hope.  And  as 
their  voices  joined  in  the  hymns  and  psalms  they 
selected  for  the  occasion,  it  filled  the  air  with  their 
rude  though  earnest  vocalization.  Ferguson  address- 
ed the  assembled  multitude  with  his  characteristic 
ardor,  and  his  very  text  contained  a  prayer  that  the 
cause  of  right  might  prevail.  "  The  Lord  God  of 
Gods,  the  Lord  God  of  Gods,  he  knoweth,  and  Israel 
shall  know.  If  it  be  in  rebellion,  or  in  transgression 
against  the  Lord,  save  us  not  this  day." 

The  righteousness  of  their  cause,  therefore,  he 
had  at  least  fully  established,  and  doubted  not  for 
a  moment  that  victory  would  crown  their  brows  at 
the  outset.  Monmouth  remained  in  the  castle,  sur- 
veying the  scene  from  the  windows,  a  prey  to  anx- 
iety ;  for  he  felt  the  crisis  was  approaching,  and  in 
the  event  of  failure  how  fearful  were  the  conse- 
quences to  himself  and  these  brave  and  faithful 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  63 

followers!  Far  different  were  the  feelings  of  Fe- 
versham  and  Churchill,  at  Zoyland.  Feversham,  in 
particular,  was  indulging  in  every  luxury  he  could 
command,  and  treating  his  fellow  subordinate  offi- 
cers with  that  cold  and  haughty  caprice  which  dis- 
tinguished his  character,  and  withholding  that  de- 
gree of  confidence  necessary  on  such  occasions ;  as 
his  success  in  previous  battles  justified  him  not 
only  to  trust,  but  consult  and  advise  with  them  in 
their  present  position.  This  conduct  from  a  man 
whom  Churchill  thoroughly  despised,  would,  in  other 
circumstances,  have  been  resented  as  it  became  a 
gentleman  and  an  officer,  but  prudential  considera- 
tions for  the  future  urged  him  to  stifle  his  feelings ; 
as  he  knew  how  disadvantageous  such  a  report;  to 
the  king  would  operate,  and  whenever  one  was 
sent  informing  him  of  their  proceedings,  Feversham 
would  have  to  send  it.  By  this  means  he  obtained 
what  he  desired,  for  Feversham  praised  his  con- 
duct highly  in  his  official  communication  to  James, 
and  Churchill  stood  high,  in  consequence,  in  the 
royal  favor. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  without  Bridge- 
water,  the  town  itself  was  full  of  sorrowing  and 
broken-hearted  women,  who  had  come  from  different 
parts  of  the  country  to  see  their  relatives ;  some  of 
which  belonged  to  the  king's  forces,  and  some  to 
Monmouth's.  Beautiful  girls  were  among  them,  in 
search  of  their  lovers.  Mothers  with  their  babes  had 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 

travelled  long  and  weary  miles  to  see  their  husbands. 
Sisters  seeking  their  brothers,  daughters  their  beloved 
fathers,  presented  a  spectacle  which  the  stoutest  heart 
could  not  behold  unmoved.  Tears  and  lamentations 
were  only  heard,  for  the  contiguity  of  the  two  armies 
had  spread  through  the  different  counties,  watching 
with  the  deepest  interest  their  every  movement,  and 
immediate  battle  they  knew  was  now  to  follow. 
Their  relatives  would  soon  be  engaged  in  a  struggle 
of  life  and  death,  and  the  wretchedness  and  anxiety 
it  occasioned  may  be  imagined  only  by  those  who 
have  been  similarly  circumstanced.  A  great  many 
wandered  to  the  Castle-fields,  to  gain  a  look,  if  pos- 
sible, of  their  relatives  who  belonged  to  the  rebel 
army,  and  there  beheld  preachers,  in  red  coats,  with 
swords  by  their  sides,  engaged  in  services  they  trust- 
ed the  Almighty  would  recognize,  and  spare  the  lives 
of  those  who  were  about  to  fight  in  his  cause.  And 
Monmouth  himself — by  not  only  Lady  Wentworth 
were  tears  and  prayers  poured  forth  for  him — his  wife, 
whom  he  had  slighted  and  forsaken,  with  woman's 
faithful  and  unchanging  love  in  her  heart,  still  clung 
to  the  companion  of  her  youth,  still  hoped  against 
hope  for  the  affection  she  believed  once  all  her  own. 
How  ardently  she  prayed  and  trusted  for  his  success  ! 
while  Lady  Wentworth,  full  of  but  one  object,  from 
day  to  day  yielded  herself  up  to  a  belief,  so  natural 
to  persons  of  strong  feelings,  especially  when  nursed 
in  solitude,  (where  enthusiasm  assumes  the  right 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  65 

over  excited  imaginations,)  that  Monmouth  must 
be  successful,  and  become,  in  consequence,  Eng- 
land's acknowledged  sovereign — king  of  the  na- 
tion's hearts,  as  he  was  the  idol  of  her  own.  Hie 
letters  fostered  these  delusive  ideas,  even  when  his 
soul  was  sinking  within  him  at  the  discourage- 
ments which  met  him  on  every  side ;  but  he  knew 
how  dreadful  a  thing  suspense  was,  and  therefore 
brightened  as  much  as  possible  a  future  for  her, 
whose  present  admitted  of  no  pleasure  beyond  the 
prospective  of  his  triumphs,  as  she  was  separated 
from  her  family  and  continued  to  live  in  the  beauti- 
ful retirement  they  occupied  together,  alone ;  living 
upon  the  news  she  received  from  time  to  time  of  his 
movements;  and  among  her  birds,  books,  and  flow- 
ers, diverting  her  mind  by  creating  visions  of  fu- 
ture splendor  and  happiness,  that  was  to  re-pay  her 
for  all  the  anxiety  and  sorrow  this  separation  had 
caused  her. 

The  sun  set  in  beauty  over  the  smiling  land- 
scape, now  redolent  with  summer  bloom,  but  nature's 
loveliness  inspired  no  joy  in  hearts  so  full  of  the  mo- 
mentous object  before  them.  The  exercises  of  the 
day  had  had  a  very  soothing  effect  on  the  religious 
portion  of  the  rebels,  and  they  indulged  in  great 
hopes  of  victory  from  the  happy  state  of  their  feel- 
ings. To  mild  dewy  eve  succeeded  night's  solemn 
reign;  the  moon  rose  in  unclouded  brightness,  and 
beneath  her  bright  beams  the  soldiers  were  marshal- 

4* 


4 

66  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

led  forth  and  arranged  into  order  for  battle.  They 
commenced  their  march  towards  Sedgemoor,  where, 
although  the  night  was  so  fine,  a  dense  deep  fog 
arising  from  the  marsh  enveloped  everything.  This 
was  a  great  annoyance.  The  army,  as  it  proceeded, 
extended  nearly  six  miles  round,  having  taken  a  cir- 
cuitous route  to  the  moor  in  different  divisions.  The 
clock  from  the  castle  chimed  the  hour  of  eleven, 
when  Monmouth,  with  his  body-guard,  set  forth  after 
them,  sad  and  depressed,  and  his  countenance  bear- 
ing the  stamp  of  the  greatest  internal  suffering  and 
despair. 

On  every  one  who  beheld  him,  his  melancholy 
hopeless  look  made  a  deep  impression,  and  long  was 
it  remembered  by  those  who  pressed  to  see  him  as 
he  departed  from  Bridgewater,  He  led  the  foot  re- 
giments himself,  passing  through  a  green  lane  adorn- 
ed with  hedge-rows  on  either  side,  covered  with 
flowers  glittering  with  dew-drops  in  the  bright  moon- 
light. 

Lord  Grey  led  the  cavalry,  though,  owing  to  his 
ill  success  at  Bridgeport,  some  greatly  opposed  it. 
Silence,  deep  and  unbroken,  reigned  throughout  all 
the  ranks,  as  their  idea  was  to  steal  upon  and  sur- 
prise the  enemy.  The  watch-word  they  adopted  was 
"So-ho!"  from  the  situation  of  Monmouth's  palace, 
which  stood  in  Soho  Fields,  London. 

The  duke's  scouts  had  brought  intelligence  of 
two  trenches,  or  "  rhines,"  as  they  were  called,  which 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  67 

lay  this  side  of  the  royal  encampment,  filled  with 
water  and  mud,  but  these  they  resolved,  at  all 
hazards,  to  cross.  There  was  yet  another,  deeper 
and  longer,  which  they  had  overlooked,  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  the  enemy,  named  the 
Bussex  Rhine. 

When  they  arrived  at  Sedgemoor,  the  trains 
containing  the  ammunition  remained  on  the  out- 
skirts. On  two  of  the  Ehines,  or  trenches,  cause- 
ways had  been  erected,  over  one  of  which  the  horse 
and  foot  passed  in  a  long  narrow  file,  and  then 
proceeded  to  cross  the  other;  but  the  fog  was  so 
great  that  the  guide  could  not  distinguish  the 
way,  and  the  whole  troop  were  thrown  into  such 
confusion  that  a  pistol  went  off,  no  one  knew  how. 
The  sound  reached  the  ears  of  the  king's  army, 
who  were  on  the  watch ;  they  immediately  looked 
in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  proceeded,  and 
there  beheld  the  advancing  multitude.  Carbines 
were  fired  on  the  instant,  while  off  they  set  to  ap- 
prize Feversham,  at  Western  Zoyland ;  dispatching 
one  also  to  give  the  news  to  the  infantry  encamp- 
ment, crying  out,  as  he  approached,  "  The  enemy 
is  at  hand !  The  enemy  is  at  hand !"  Dumbar- 
ton's regiment  sounded  to  arms,  the  pealing  drum 
awakening  them  to  the  call  of  loyal  duty.  They  soon 
got  to  order  and  marched  forward.  Monmouth  was 
near  at  hand,  and  had  commenced  drawing  up  his 
forces  for  battle.  Grey  came  on  with  his  cavalry, 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


but  they  were  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  interrupt- 
ed in  their  progress.  The  Bussex  Ehine,  an  immense 
quagmire,  lay  before  them,  for  which  no  preparation 
had  been  made,  nor  any  knowledge  given  even  of  its 
existence.  Here  Dumbarton's  men  drew  up  for  ac- 
tion ;  calling  out,  "  For  whom  are  you  there  on  the 
opposite  side  ?" 

"For  the  king,"  was  the  response  of  the  in- 
surgents. 

"  For  the  king,  which  king  ?"  was  demanded  by 
the  royalists. 

The  answer  was  quickly  given — "  King  Mon- 
mouthl"  coupled  with  the  words,  "God  with  usl" 
the  words  used  by  Cromwell's  men  when  fighting 
against  the  government  forty  years  before.  No  more 
was  said,  but  a  thundering  volley  of  musketry  was 
poured  into  the  rebel  ranks  by  the  king's  battalion, 
which  scattered  the  cavalry  under  Grey's  command 
in  every  direction. 

The  promptitude  of  the  royal  army  was  in  some 
contrast  to  Lord  Grey's  conduct  on  this  occasion,  and 
he  was  much  censured  for  allowing  them  the  prece- 
dence. But  those  who  did  so,  should  have  taken 
into  consideration  the  surprise  and  momentary  be- 
wilderment which  naturally  followed  upon  the  know- 
ledge of  the  barrier  which  so  unexpectedly  arrested 
their  progress,  which  very  naturally  explains  the 
cause  of  his  delay.  Under  such  circumstances  the 
most  able  and  practised  commander  would  be  dis- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  69 

comfited,  and  the  vantage  ground,  in  consequence,  be 
possessed  by  those  on  whom  such  a  surprise  had  not 
fallen.  The  condition  of  Lord  Grey's  cavalry  also  was 
greatly  against  him.  Eegular  trained  horses  would 
not  so  soon  have  scattered,  but  those  raw  colts  could 
not  stand  fire.  Monmouth's  hope  had  been  to  surprise 
the  enemy,  and  on  this  hung  his  chief  prospect  of 
success.  Instead  of  which  he  had  been  completely 
captured  by  it  himself,  and  his  horse  galloped  off  in 
a  contrary  direction  over  the  moor ;  the  heavy  fog 
still  enveloping  every  thing.  Grey's  men  had  return- 
ed Dumbarton's  fire,  but  it  did  little  execution.  The 
infantry,  as  the  cavalry  dispersed,  came  running  up, 
headed  by  the  duke,  and,  like  Lord  Grey,  were  com- 
pelled to  stop  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  the 
trench.  They  halted  and  drew  up  for  action  on  its 
borders,  like  the  cavalry,  and  fired  a  volley,  which 
was  at  once  returned ;  this  continued  without  in- 
termission full  three  quarters  of  an  hour ;  his  hardy 
peasantry  equalling,  by  their  bravery  and  dexterity, 
even  veteran  soldiers,  for  their  energy  and  spirit 
were  untiring,  and  the  duke's  courage  rose  with  its 
manifestation  considerably.  But  this  was  not  the 
only  army  he  had  to  contend  with ;  the  other  regi- 
ments of  the  royalists  were  in  sight,  and  moving  for- 
ward to  the  scene  of  action.  The  life-guards  and 
blues,  with  Feversham  at  their  head,  advanced  to- 
wards them.  Some  of  Grey's  horse  collected  and  re- 
turned, but  they  were  quickly  dispersed  by  these 


70  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

I 

r '  . 

new  forces,  and  again  galloped  off  as  before.  Their 
scattered  appearance,  a  second  time,  spread  alarm 
and  fear  among  the  insurgents  who  remained  in 
charge  of  the  ammunition,  and  the  trains  were  driven 
off  by  the  wagoners,  with  disappointed  and  trem- 
bling hearts,  as  fast  as  possible,  never  once  daring  to 
look  behind  till  they  had  travelled  many  miles  be- 
yond Sedgemoor. 

Monmouth  fought  with  his  infantry,  on  foot,  en- 
couraging them  by  words  and  actions  in  every 
way  he  could ;  but  the  darkness  and  the  fog  was 
against  him  ;  and  troops  untrained  to  war  could  not 
be  expected,  however  brave  and  energetic  they 
might  feel,  to  equal  soldiers  who  had  lived  all,  or  a 
great  part  of,  their  lives  in  the  practice  of  arms. 
Besides,  their  generals  knew  their  ground ;  no  sur- 
prise met  them  but  the  daring  temerity  of  the  rebels 
in  concerting  their  schemes.  Confidence  in  their 
success  never  for  a  moment  deserted  the  unprinci- 
pled Feversham,  who,  when  he  dressed  for  the  bat- 
tle-field, did  it  with  the  gaiety  and  precision  of  a 
man  going  to  some  party  of  pleasure,  instead  of  war. 
When  Churchill  and  he  approached,  Monmouth,  de- 
serted by  the  cavalry,  and  the  wagons  of  ammuni- 
tion gone,  saw  plainly  all  was  lost. 

The  day  now  began  to  dawn,  and  gradually  to 
dispel  the  darkness  and  gloom  which  had  surround- 
ed the  two  contending  armies ;  but  the  duke's  hopes 
having  entirely  failed  him,  he  acted  on  the  last  sug- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  71 

%, 

gestion  of  poor,  weak  humanity — self-preservation  ; 
and  turning  from  the  thousands  of  devoted  hearts, 
fighting  with  their  rude  weapons  to  place  him  on 
the  throne,  at  such  fearful  hazards,  seized  the  first 
horse  he  came  to,  and  rode  from  the  field  of  what 
he  felt  to  be  such  unequal  strife,  before  his  progress 
was  cut  off  by  being  hemmed  in  by  another  line  oi 
advancing  infantry. 

This  act  showed  Monmouth's  character  in 
no  very  favorable  light ;  history  has  branded  it 
with  a  meanness,  a  want  of  bravery,  and  a  tho- 
rough heartlessness,  almost  unparalleled,  in  a  leader 
whose  followers  had  been  actuated  solely  from  mo- 
tives of  attachment  to  join  in  an  enterprise  which 
perilled  not  only  all  they  possessed,  but  their  lives. 
But  these  brave  men,  though  aware  of  Monmouth's 
desertion,  still  kept  both  heart  and  ground,  and 
fought  manfully  in  his  cause.  They  were  attack- 
ed right  and  left  by  the  Life  Guards  and  the 
Blues,  but  resisted  with  all  their  might,  rushing 
on  them  with  their  muskets  and  scythes,  fearlessly 
facing  the  royal  horse,  and  pouring  it  into  them 
with  unflinching  courage.  Then  came  a  regiment 
commanded  by  Oglethorpe,  who  endeavored  to 
break  through  the  ranks  of  the  valorous  rustics, 
but  they  were  vigorously  repulsed  and  driven  back ; 
on  another  side  they  were  assailed,  where  the  brave 
rebels  were  again  victorious,  laying  their  leader, 
Sarsfield,  dead  on  the  ground.  These  defeats  of 


72  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

• 

the  enemy  quite  inspired  the  insurgents;  and  had 
Mon  mouth,  when  he  fled,  only  concerted  schemes 
for  the  supply  of  powder  and  ball  to  these  faithful 
creatures,  the  issue  would  have  been  different.  As 
it  now  stood,  it  was  evident  they  must  fail  for 
want  of  new  supplies,  as  cry  after  cry  for  ammuni- 
tion rent  the  unanswering  air ;  but  no  hand  brought 
the  needed  succour,  and  their  extremity  almost 
destroyed  the  bold  energy  which  had  hitherto  sup- 
ported them. 

While  they  were  in  this  condition,  destitute  of 
all  but  their  scythes,  pitchforks,  bludgeons,  and  the 
use  of  the  but-ends  of  their  muskets,  the  royal  ar- 
tillery came  up,  the  great  guns  drawn  by  the  Bishop 
of  "Winchester's  coach-horses,  as  at  that  time  there 
were  no  appointments  like  those  now  so  amply 
supplied  the  army  on  such  occasions.  The  cannon 
did  terrible  execution,  and  soon  broke  the  ranks 
of  the  rebels.  Their  arms  could  do  nothing  in 
such  a  case,  and  they  had  to  witness  the  fall  of 
hundreds  of  their  brave  band.  The  event  they 
foresaw  soon  followed — more  than  a  thousand  of 
their  comrades  were  killed.  A  company  of  infantry 
crossed  over  and  attacked  them ;  here  again  they 
fought  with  all  their  might,  till  borne  down  com- 
pletely with  the  unequal  contest.  The  victory  of 
the  king's  troops  was  most  decisive,  and  the  rebels 
were  routed,  with  only  about  three  hundred  of  the 
royalists  killed  and  wounded. 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  73 

As  daylight  revealed  the  scenes  enacted  dur- 
ing the  darkness  of  the  night,  how  sickening  was 
the  sight !  The  moor  this  side  the  "Sussex  Khine " 
was  literally  strewn  with  the  dying  and  the  dead. 
The  sun  rose  in  unclouded  loveliness,  and  four 
o'clock  saw  the  unfortunate  survivors  of  the  rebel 
army  on  their  way  to  Bridgewater.  Great  numbers, 
dreadfully  cut  and  wounded,  sank  down  and  died, 
their  whole  appearance  presenting  so  woful  and 
so  mangled  a  spectacle,  that  the  townsfolk,  even 
to  the  tory  inhabitants,  pitied  and  succoured  them 
in  their  dreadful  extremity,  Catholics  joining  in  the 
general  sympathy  for  what  they  termed  their  mis- 
guided zeal  for  an  unprincipled  fanatic,  as  they  call- 
ed Monmouth. 

But  with  all  their  sufferings,  their  attachment 
remained  unabated.  He  was  still  the  idol  of  their 
hearts  ;  willingly  would  they  again,  with  the  slight- 
est prospect  of  success,  have  gone  forth  in  the  same 
cause.  Their  defeat  was  far  less  painful  than  their 
hopelessness  for  the  future. 

Their  bravery  has  been  recorded  in  history  as 
being  scarcely  equalled  in  the  annals  of  war.  Alone, 
deserted  by  their  leader,  and  without  ammunition, 
an  agricultural  peasantry  for  the  most  part,  contend- 
ing with  outnumbered  regular  troops  for  the  space 
of  several  hours,  bears  upon  its  face  a  valor  as  sur- 
prising as  it  was  heroic,  and  reflected  then,  as  it 


74  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

6 

does  now,  a  character  for  bravery,  energy,  and  de- 
voted zeal,  beyond  all  praise. 

Monmouth  galloped  from  the  moor  with  his 
mind  filled  with  thoughts  of  the  most  bewildering 
nature;  the  war-charms  he  wore  around  his  neck, 
which  the  Scotch  people  had  declared  were  infalli- 
ble, mocked  his  blind  superstitious  folly  for  ever 
having  credited  their  power;  and  in  his  wretched- 
ness and  misery  he  would  have  torn  them  from  his 
person,  and  cast  them  to  the  ground — but  there  was 
no  time  to  spare  for  such  a  purpose.  Grey  had 
joined  him,  and  they  made  with  all  speed  for  Nood- 
gates'  Inn,  some  miles  beyond,  on  the  road  to  Bland- 
ford,  where  they  concluded  to  leave  their  horses,  as 
by  that  means  they  could  the  better  elude  their  pur- 
suers, who,  they  knew,  would  soon  be  in  quest  of 
them.  It  was  about  the  time  when  the  farmers  and 
laborers  were  rising  to  go  forth  to  their  fields ;  and 
meeting  a  sturdy  peasant  on  his  way  to  work,  Mon- 
mouth asked  him  to  change  clothes  with  him,  offer- 
ing him  money  for  the  exchange.  The  man  consent- 
ed, and  by  his  new  habiliments  the  duke  hoped  to 
save  his  life.  Lord  Grey  and  he,  accompanied  by 
Buyse  and  a  few  others  who  had  come  up  with 
them,  then  wandered  through  lanes,  crossed  woods 
and  fields  in  the  direction  of  the  coast  of  Hants, 
with  the  hope  of  finding  a  vessel,  when  they  would 
embark  and  cross  over  to  Holland.  They  travelled 
all  day,  without  halting,  in  the  burning  sun,  till 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  75 

nightfall,  when  they  sought  shelter  in  the  open  air, 
beneath  some  trees,  in  a  remote  and  apparently  de- 
solate part  of  the  country. 

Parties  in  the  meantime  were  in  active  pursuit 
of  the  wretched  fugitives.  Lord  Lumley,  with  the 
Sussex  militia,  were  stationed  at  Eingwood,  from 
there  he  sent  forth  scouts  to  scour  the  country  in 
every  direction.  And  the  Somerset  militia  had  been 
ordered  to  make  "  a  chain  of  posts  "  from  the  sea  to 
the  northern  extremity  of  the  coast  of  Dorsetshire. 
Notwithstanding,  they  were  left  quiet  and  unmolest- 
ed during  the  night ;  but  at  daybreak,  as  they  crept 
forth  from  their  hiding-places,  they  found  by  the 
footprints  in  the  soft,  dusty  mould,  that  their  pur- 
suers had  passed  quite  near  them,  and  still,  doubt- 
less, surrounded  them  on  all  sides.  They  were  not 
wrong  in  their  conjectures.  As  they  set  again  steal- 
thily forward,  divided,  the  better  to  elude  suspicion, 
Lord  Grey,  undisguised,  was  discovered  and  taken, 
at  about  five  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  of 
July.  He  made  no  resistance  ;  he  fully  realized  his 
unhappy  position,  but  could  not  help  acknowledging 
'at  a  subsequent  period,  that  the  dreadful  anxiety  he 
had  undergone,  while  with  Monmouth,  was  such  that 
his  imprisonment  was  an  actual  relief. 

The  duke  eluded  his  fierce  pursuers  all  that  day, 
his  peasant  dress  causing  them  to  overlook  him  for 
some  laborer ;  but  they  still  followed  up  their  earnest 


76  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

search.  The  numerous  cottages  on  the  heath  forming 
the  boundaries  of  Dorsetshire  and  Hampshire,  were 
entered,  and  every  nook  and  corner  strictly  scruti- 
nized, but  in  vain ;  while  men,  women  and  children 
were  closely  questioned.  Farm-houses  and  gentle- 
men's seats  were  also  examined,  out-houses  and  en- 
closures, but  not  the  slightest  clue  was  given,  till  a 
shout,  on  seeing  a  man  in  the  duke's  dress,  called 
their  attention  to  the  rustic  who  had  changed  clothes 
with  Monmouth,  sauntering  before  them.  He  was 
at  once  interrogated,  and  simply  told  the  tale  as  it 
was.  They,  of  course,  could  do  nothing  with  the 
man,  but  they  felt  they  must  now  seek  Monmouth 
in  a  new  attire,  and  to  this  end  resolved  to  watch 
every  peasant  closely  as  he  passed  them. 

Sir  William  Portman,  in  addition  to  stationing 
the  militia  towards  the  coast,  mustered  a  large  body 
of  the  foot  regiments  and  cavalry  to  assist  in  the  cap- 
ture of  the  fugitive  duke,  who,  wandering  without 
having  taken  a  mouthful  of  food  since  their  flight, 
might  be  said  to  be  more  dead  than  alive  with  fa- 
tigue, hunger,  and  thirst,  which  were  all  overlooked 
in  the  one  all-absorbing  desire  of  escape  and  life. 

He  had  changed  his  plans  several  times,  with  the 
vagueness  which  always  follows  such  a  state  of 
mind ;  till,  at  length,  his  only  aim  was  to  secrete 
himself  securely  in  some  hiding  place  where  he 
might  remain,  undetected,  in  safe  quiet. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  77 

Byron  says  there  is  but  one  step  from  the  sub- 
lime to  the  ridiculous ;  and  but  a  few  short  steps,  the 
intervention  of  a  few  short  hours,  found  the  candi- 
date for  the  honors  of  a  throne  a  wanderer  and  a  fu- 
gitive from  the  axe  of  the  executioner. 

Through  divers  windings  Monmouth  came  to 
Shag's  heath,  in  Dorsetshire,  a  common  belonging  to 
the  parish  of  Woodlands.  It  possesses  all  the  wild- 
ness  of  nature  and  aspect  usual  with  heathy  land, 
neither  houses  or  trees  relieving  its  dull  monotony 
for  miles,  save  a  few  mud- walled  cots.  In  the  middle 
of  this  dreary  plain  was  an  enclosure,  where  were 
corn,  pea,  and  other  fields.  Here  the  unhappy  duke 
thought  he  would  be  able  to  lie  in  safe  ambush. 
Buyse  was  with  him,  but  they  did  not  keep  close  to- 
gether. Here  they  were  followed ;  sentinels  guarded 
the  outer  hedge,  and  whenever  they  peeped  through 
the  bushes  in  that  direction  their  eyes  encountered 
the  heads  of  soldiers,  earnestly  gazing  around,  which 
ever  way  they  turned,  while  the  fields  were  being 
searched  in  every  direction.  This  state  of  things 
could  not  last  long ;  and  their  capture  seemed  inevi- 
table. Once  they  knew  they  had  been  seen,  for  a 
fire  immediately  followed ;  but  they  slunk  away 
among  the  corn,  and  escaped  its  stroke.  Dogs  had 
also  been  let  loose  to  scent  them  out.  Poor,  unhappy 
man !  in  such  a  condition,  how  does  the  tear  of  com- 
passionate sympathy  flow  forth  for  your  desperate 


78  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

situation.  Alas !  misguided  Duke  of  Monmouth,  to 
others,  not  yourself,  was  the  perilous  enterprise  you 
engaged  in  traceable,  and  yet  you  are  the  victim 
sought,  on  which  to  wreck  the  deepest  vengeance  of 
insulted  majesty. 


CHAPTEE    IV. 


Night  once  more  enveloped  all  things  in  its  som- 
bre mantle,  but  no  advantage  could  be  taken  by 
the  wretched  fugitives  of  its  gloom  to  extend  their 
wanderings;  they  felt  they  were  hemmed  in  on 
every  side.  Any  movement  would  be  fatal,  so  to 
remain  passive  was  the  only  alternative  in  their 
"Island  prison,"  (the  inclosure  bearing  the  name  of 
Island;)  relieving  their  gnawing  hunger  by  plucking 
ears  of  corn  from  their  stalks,  the  only  food  they 
had  tasted  since  the  battle.  The  bright  morning  suc- 
ceeded the  darkness  of  night,  every  eye  was  again 
bent  towards  the  suspected  spot,  and  Buyse  was  dis- 
covered and  taken.  He  was  immediately  question- 
ed respecting  Monmouth.  He  replied  that  he  was 
not  far  off.  This  led  to  another  search  through  the 
fields,  but  without  success.  A  poor  woman  pass- 
ing that  way,  was  interrogated  as  to  having  seen 
any  one  about  there,  and  the  duke's  person  describ- 
ed. She  readily  answered  that  she  had  seen  him, 
and  pointed  to  a  place  not  far  distant,  where  he 
might  be  found.  The  soldiers  hurried  to  the  spot, 
and  in  a  deep  ditch,  shadowed  by  an  ash-tree,  over- 


SO  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

grown  by  fern  and  brush- wood,  crouched  up  at  the 
bottom,  lay  the  unfortunate  object  of  their  pursuit. 
His  peasant  dress  all  soiled  and  torn,  his  beard 
whitened  by  the  sufferings  he  had  undergone,  his 
handsome  features  bearing  the  impress  of  despair, 
and  his  fine  eyes  sunken  and  hollow,  presented  a 
most  pitiable  and  wretched  appearance.  One  of  the 
men  had  known  him  for  some  years,  and  seeing  the 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  a  few  days,  was  so 
much  affected  by  it  that  he  burst  into  tears.  Sir  W. 
Portman  was  present  when  he  was  taken,  and  as  they 
approached  some  of  them  were  going  to  fire  upon 
Monmouth,  but  he  ordered  that  no  violence  of  any 
kind  should  be  used.  It  was  perfectly  unnecessary,  as 
he  did  not  make  the  slightest  resistance,  but  trem- 
bled to  such  a  degree  that  he  could  scarcely  stand. 
Could  Lady  "Wentworth  have  witnessed  this  fi- 
nale to  her  foolish  ambition,  how  would  her  heart 
have  smote  her.  The  brilliant,  elegant,  fascinating 
and  handsome  Duke  of  Monmouth  reduced  to  such 
a  state !  He  was  guarded  on  the  spot  on  which  he 
was  taken  until  a  carriage  arrived  to  convey  him  be- 
fore the  magistrate  of  the  .parish  of  Woodlands, 
where  he  was  searched,  and  every  thing  found  on 
his  person  taken  from  him ;  consisting  of  a  purse  of 
gold,  some  raw  peas,  which  he  had  gathered  to  eat ; 
a  book  on  fortifications, 'and  an  album,  containing, 
among  other  curious  matter,  sundry  charms,  such  as 
spells  for  opening  prison  doors,  and  cures  for  those 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  81 

wounded  on  the  field  of  battle;  prayers  also  for 
those  occasions.  There  were,  beside,  several  songs 
in  his  own  hand- writing,  memorandums  of  various 
journeys,  interviews  with  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Orange,  travels  and  stages  noted  down  of  a  tour 
through  several  counties,  till  he  came  to  Todding- 
ton,  in  Bedfordshire,  the  paternal  residence  of  his 
Henrietta,  Baroness  of  Wentworth  and  Nettleside 
in  her  own  right,  the  object  of  his  ill-starred  love. 

The  village  of  Toddington  is  one  of  rare  beauty. 
Situated  in  rich  wooded  land,  the  eye  is  charmed  at 
every  turn  with  the  varied  loveliness  of  the  surround- 
ing landscape.  The  beautiful  residence  of  Sir  Tho- 
mas, her  father,  lay  here,  surrounded  by  extensive 
parks  abounding  with  deer,  roaming  at  will  amid  the 
beautiful  luxuriance  which  nature  and  art  combined 
to  furnish.  This  was  the  birthplace  of  Lady  Went- 
worth, his  only  child,  where  she  unfolded  her  youth- 
ful loveliness  to  her  idolizing  parents,  whose  fond- 
ness she  so  ill  repaid  in  after  life,  and  whose  coun- 
sels to  the  man  for  whom  she  abandoned  everything, 
ended  in  the  wretched  departure  we  have  recorded. 

The  justice  of  peace,  before  whom  he  was  taken, 
ordered  Monmouth  to  be  sent  immediately  to  Lon- 
don. Col.  Wm.  Legge  went  in  the  coach  with  him, 
attended  by  a  strong  guard,  who  were  instructed,  in 
the  event  of  his  making  any  resistance,  to  stab  him 
on  the  road.  But  this  precaution  was  little  needed ; 
he  was  perfectly  passive,  his  despairing  condition 

5 


82  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

absorbing  all  his  faculties,  and  rendering  him  alive 
to  but  one  consideration — the  wretched  death  that 
was  so  soon  to  follow.  Where  now  was  the  efficacy 
of  those  superstitions  which  he  had  regarded  as  safe- 
guards in  every  extremity  ?  He  had  in  the  carriage 
with  him  a  table  book  full  of  astrological  figures, 
perfectly  imcomprehensible  to  any  one  else  but  him- 
self. He  showed  it  to  his  companion,  Sir  W.  Legge, 
and  also  explained  the  use  of  several  of  the  charms 
given  him  by  the  Scotch  people,  and  the  influence 
they  had  over  him ;  concluding  by  calling  them 
blind  and  foolish  inventions,  to  cheat  the  judgment 
and  mislead  the  imagination. 

Lord  Grey  was  conveyed  to  London  with  him, 
and  nothing  could  exceed  the  contrast  their  de- 
meanor exhibited.  For  while  Monmouth  was  the 
very  impersonation  of  despair,  Grey  was  able  to 
talk  and  laugh,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  joke 
upon  his  situation. 

The  place  where  Monmouth  secreted  himself,  is 
called  "  Monmouth's  Close "  to  this  day,  and  the 
ash-tree  against  which  he  leaned,  overshadowing  the 
ditch,  has  been  visited  by  thousands,  who  have 
carved  their  names  on  its  bark.  Woodlands  be- 
longed to  Lord  Shaftesbury  after  the  death  of  his 
brother;  and  traditions  are  still  handed  down,  of 
that  sad  event,  to  the  traveller  and  sojoumer  in  that 
part  of  the  country. 

On  their  way  the  prisoner  stopped  at  Eingwood, 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  83 

where  Monmouth  wrote  a  letter  to  the  king,  descrip- 
tive of  the  miserable  situation  he  was  in,  and  de- 
ploring the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  rebellion ;  that 
he  had  promised  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange, 
at  the  Hague,  never  to  attempt  anything  against  the 
government,  but  that  his  judgment  had  been  blind- 
ed by  the  advice  of  a  dreadful  set  of  unprincipled 
men,  who  had  excited  his  mind  by  their  wicked  and 
unjust  calumnies.  Those  persons  he  now  contemned 
and  despised  as  they  deserved,  and  lamented  most 
sincerely  having  for  a  moment  listened  to  them.  He 
pleaded  his  relationship,  and  the  affection  of  the 
brother  he  loved,  for  his  son,  who  now  lay  at  his 
mercy ;  and  besought  to  be  admitted  to  the  royal 
presence,  that  he  might  confide  a  secret  of  import- 
ance to  him,  and  him  only.  He  also  wrote  to  the 
queen-dowager  and  the  lord  treasurer,  beseeching 
them  to  intercede  in  his  behalf. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  still  more  wretched 
state  of  the  rebels  whom  we  left  pouring  into  Bridge- 
water,  with  all  the  marks  of  the  unfortunate  battle 
upon  them.  Numbers  died  on  the  spot,  their  last 
remaining  strength  having  been  spent  in  reaching 
the  town.  While  those  that  survived  were  so  terri- 
bly gashed,  and  smeared  with  blood,  that  they  were 
scarcely  recognisable.  But  even  in  this  sad  condi- 
tion they  were  not  allowed  to  rest.  Feversham's  men 
were  in  active  pursuit,  and  soon  captured  these 
brave  and  suffering  rustics,  and,  without  one  feeling 


84  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

of  compassion,  huddled  the  poor  victims  into  carts, 
with  their  wounds  undressed,  amid  the  cries  and  la- 
mentations of  their  relatives  who  had  remained  to 
see  the  issue  of  the  battle.  In  this  state  they  were 
hurried  off  to  the  jails  and  prisons  of  Somersetshire. 
These  buildings  were  crowded  almost  to  suffocation 
with  the  king's  prisoners,  as  they  were  called,  and 
their  suffering  numbers,  confined  in  damp  and  un- 
wholesome cells,  without  the  slightest  attention  to 
their  wounds,  carries  upon  its  face  a  torture  of  mind 
and  body  at  which  humanity  shudders.  But  no  pity 
soothed  the  silent  agonies  they  endured ;  no  hand  or 
heart  sought,  to  give  them  relief ;  while  the  wretch- 
ed families  to  which  they  severally  belonged,  were 
plunged  into  a  state  whose  utter  misery  and  heart- 
breaking situation  baffles  all  description  ;  for  not  a 
ray  of  hope  broke  through  the  gloom  that  so  com- 
pletely overshadowed  them. 

Meanwhile  the  triumph  of  the  victors  was  being 
celebrated  by  the  tories  all  through  the  country. 
Farmers  feasted  the  king's  troops  everywhere,  and 
the  bells  of  Western  Zoyland  pealed  merrily  the 
whole  of  that  day.  These  were  mingled  with  shouts 
of  rejoicing,  and  filled  the  air  for  miles  around  with 
sounds  in  sad  contrast  with  the  feelings  of  the  miser- 
able rebels.  Yet,  with  all  the  pain  and  misery  they 
endured,  the  love  of  the  being  for  whom  they  thus 
suffered  might  be  said  to  support  them  cheerfully. 
Nothing  could  shake,  for  a  moment,  the  hold  Mon- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  85 

mouth  had  on  their  affections,  and  thoughts  of  his 
fate  affected  them  far  more  than  their  own. 

Notwithstanding  the  numbers  taken,  hundreds 
had  made  their  escape,  and  were  dispersed  all 
through  Somersetshire.  One  of  Feversham's  officers, 
Colonel  Kirke,  was  ordered  to  Bridgewater  for  the 
purpose  of  securing,  if  possible,  those  fugitives  who 
had  fled  from  what  they  termed  justice.  To  this  end 
he  marched  with  a  regiment  of  his  own  men,  as  soon 
as  he  had  secured  what  still  remained  at  Bridgewa- 
ter, to  Taunton,  accompanied  all  the  way  by  two 
carts  of  the  wounded  rebels,  whose  gashes  and  blood 
were  exposed  to  a  burning  July  sun — thus  wantonly 
augmenting  their  sufferings,  and  by  cruel  and  heart- 
less threats  of  what  would  be  done  as  soon  as  they 
arrived  at  the  town,  exciting  the  most  dreadful  and 
agonising  thoughts.  Added  to  these  were  a  long 
line  of  prisoners  on  foot,  chained  two  and  two. 

When  they  arrived  at  Taunton  the  work  com- 
menced, and,  without  judge  or  jury,  numbers  were 
hanged.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  ferocity  of  this 
Kirke  and  his  men,  he  had  the  gallows  erected  di- 
rectly opposite  to  where  they  held  their  carousals, 
and  to  the  hoisting  of  every  man  (who  was  not  even 
permitted  to  speak  to  his  nearest  relatives  standing 
weeping  around)  they  filled  their  glasses,  and  with 
gleeful  delight  pledged  each  other's  health  in  bum- 
pers ;  while  the  band  who  accompanied  them  were 


86  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

ordered  to  strike  up  with,  a  rejoicing  air  as  their  legs 
dropped,  and  the  last  quiver  was  seen. 

The  cruelty  and   depravity  of  this  Kirke  can 
scarcely  be  imagined,  and  can  only  be  accounted  for 
in  its  vile  excesses,  from  his  residence  at  Tangier. 
He  had  been  employed  by  the  government  to  com- 
mand the  garrison  there,  and  its  distant  site  allowed 
him  the  practice  pf  every  species  of  villainy  with 
impunity.     It  is  said  that  he  was  a  perfect  despot, 
and  was  constantly  engaged  in  hostilities  against 
tribes  of  foreigners ;  occupying  nations  where  no  laws, 
either  human  or  divine,  protected  them  from  any  in- 
vasion that  might  be  made  to  despoil  them  either  of 
their  property  or  their  lives.     The  catalogue  of  his 
crimes,  on  'these  occasions,  is  a  series  of  enormities 
at  which  the  soul  sickens  at  the  thought  that  such 
monsters  in  human  form  should  be  found,  who  could 
perpetrate  acts  of  so  revolting  a  nature.    He  allowed 
no  goods  to  be  sold  anywhere  within  his  jurisdic- 
tion, without  his  permission,  and  until  they  had  been 
previously  offered  to  him ;  and  no  case  of  litigation 
could  receive  decision  until  this  reptile  had  been 
made  the  recipient  of  a  bribe,  to  substantiate  its  va- 
lidity.    If  it  happened  that  a  merchant  displeased 
him  at  any  time,  revenge  lay  entirely  in  his  own 
hands ;  a  power  which  he  exercised  to  a  most  un- 
heard-of degree ;    entering  their  ware-houses,   and 
spoiling  their  goods  before  their  very  faces.     To  in- 
stance one  occasion :  a  wine-merchant  had  failed  in 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  87 

the  customary  courtesy  of  furnishing  his  cellar,  and 
his  malignant  spirit  devised  a  plan  to  make  him  re- 
pent his  unpolitic  course.  Calling  on  the  vintner  one 
day,  with  an  excuse  to  examine  his  stock,  he  staved 
every  puncheon,  hogshead,  and  barrel  in  his  vaults, 
and  left  without  one  word  either  of  apology  or  ex- 
planation. 

Fear  governed  all  the  surrounding  country,  and 
no  one  dared  complain  or  remonstrate,  as  his  tyran- 
nical temper  vented  the  slightest  cause  of  displeasure 
on  civilians,  by  employing  his  minions  to  put  them 
to  death ;  while  foreign  savages  were  sent  to  the 
holy  inquisition  to  be  burned  alive.  His  soldiers' 
punishment,  whenever  they  were  disobedient,  was 
severe  flogging.  To  the  Jews,  who  had  for  years 
previous  to  his  arrival  carried  on  a  quiet  disposal  of 
their  wares,  he  sent  forth  a  command  that  they  should 
depart  from  the  place ;  which  mandate  they  were 
forced  to  obey,  or  they  knew  their  lives  would  be 
the  forfeit. 

His  despotic  flag  waved  from  the  ramparts  of  his 
castle,  a  signal  of  terror,  which  filled  all  hearts  with 
hatred,  gloom,  and  despair ;  and  the  sight  of  his  sol- 
diers excited  feelings  still  worse,  for  their  master 
permitted  them  to  prowl  about  the  town  at  night, 
while  on  watch,  and  insult  the  peaceful  inhabitants 
as  much  as  they  pleased  ;  a  liberty  which  those 
reckless  men  made  no  scruple  of  improving,  drinking 
to  excess,  and  sparing  neither  age  nor  sex  when  in 
their  drunken  and  besotted  state. 


88  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

When  Kirke,  therefore,  was  recalled  to  England, 
the  rejoicing  of  the  inhabitants  of  Tangier  was  be- 
yond all  description.  His  soldiers  also  accompanied 
him.  This  regiment  had  been  raised  at  first  for  the 
desperate  service  to  which  they  had  been  dedicated 
— that  of  subjugating  the  neighboring  infidel  nations. 
Such  were  the  men,  under  such  a  leader,  now  let 
loose  on  the  unfortunate  Monmouth's  followers,  and 
the  instances  of  their  ferocity,  viciousness,  and  cru- 
elty, are  almost  beyond  credibility. 

The  sign-board  of  the  inn  where  they  took  up 
their  abode,  in  Taunton,  swung  on  hinges  between 
two  posts,  exhibiting  on  its  face  a  white  hart.  These 
posts,  after  removing  the  sign,  he  made  to  support 
a  gallows,  and  on  it  he  hung  victim  after  victim, 
calling  their  struggles,  when  in  the  agony  of  death, 
dancing,  and  mockingly  ordering  suitable  music  for 
such  an  exercise.  One  of  the  rebels,  being  known 
to  feel  more  than  ordinary  affection  for  his  leader, 
the  duke,  was  suspended  by  the  neck,  and  when  his 
struggles  became  indicative  of  the  last  agony,  he  was 
barbarously  cut  down  and  mocked  with  a  show  of 
mercy,  then,  when  a  little  recovered,  again  hung  up; 
then  cut  down  a  second  time,  and  asked  if  he  repent- 
ed going  to  fight  against  the  king?  i1  irmly  and 
bravely  he  replied,  "No!"  Then  followed  immedi- 
ately the  final  drop.  Several  were  hanged  and  quar- 
tered, others,  beside  that,  seethed  in  pitch.  The  man 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  89 

selected  for  this  office  was  a  peasant,  whose  conduct 
on  several  occasions  betokened  lenity  to  the  rebels, 
though  he  professed  to  be  one  of  the  king's  own 
men.  On  being  questioned,  he  of  course  denied  the 
charge,  but  summary  measures  would  at  once  have 
been  taken,  had  he  not  consented  to  assist  the  exe- 
cutioner then  standing  ankle-deep  in  blood,  as  he 
quartered  one  after  another  of  the  dead  bodies  cut 
from  the  scaffold. 

This  man  was  called  from  that  circumstance, 
"  Tom  Boilman ;"  and  though  he  lived  years  after 
in  a  neighboring  village,  the  stain  on  his  name  for 
purchasing  life  by  such  means  never  departed — from 
that  time  he  was  shunned,  hated,  contemned,  and 
despised.  The  vengeance  of  heaven  seemed  to  have 
followed  him  also,  for  returning  one  evening  late 
from  labor,  during  a  violent  thunderstorm,  he  sought 
shelter  on  the  outskirts  of  a  wood,  beneath  a  branch- 
ing oak,  when  a  flash  of  lightning  killed  him. 

The  misery  and  wretchedness  which  reigned 
throughout  Somersetshire  among  the  peasantry,  his- 
tory, however  faithful,  would  vainly  attempt  to 
pourtray.  The  smiling  cottages  of  those  hardy  and 
contented  rustics  were  now  the  abodes  only  of  wi- 
dows and  fatherless  children,  under  circumstances, 
the  bare  contemplation  of  which  must  harrow  every 
feeling  heart.  Many  a  tender  wife  had  witnessed 
the  cruel  butchery  of  her  beloved  husband ;  many 
children  their  fathers' ;  and  some,  when  only  suing 

5* 


90  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

for  a  last  embrace,  a  last  word  of  divine  consolation, 
had  been  rudely  and  cruelly  repulsed  by  the  hard- 
ened villain,  whose  ferocity,  already  described,  con- 
veys but  a  faint  idea  of  the  monstrous  depravity 
which  lent  to  cruelty  every  species  of  aggravation 
the  most  fiendish  nature  could  conceive.  Fain 
would  we  drop  the  curtain  over  what  yet  remains  ; 
but  history  requires  a  full  account  of  the  proceed- 
ings of  past  ages,  and  wisdom,  when  contrasting  the 
present  with  the  days  gone  by — we  trust  for  ever — 
will  draw  lessons  of  instruction  which  shall  be  as  a 
beacon  to  enlighten  and  rejoice  the  spirit,  that  ad- 
vancing years  have  brought  with  them  that  benign 
character  of  which  Campbell  so  sweetly  sung,  when 
he  wrote, 

"  Come  bright  improvement  on  the  car  of  time." 

But  this  Kirke's  cruelty  was  not  his  only  cha- 
racteristic. He  loved  to  enrich  his  coffers  with  the 
spoils  of  war.  If  any  of  the  rebels  were  known  to 
be  wealthy,  or  to  possess  anything  available,  he 
could  be  very  tender  in  his  compassions,  and  lent  a 
listening  and  ready  ear  to  those  who  sued  with  a 
bonus  in  their  hands.  Yes,  even  to  state  offenders 
like  these,  there  could  be  mercy  shown  ;  but  to  the 
honest  and  brave  men  whose  valor  claims  the  tribute 
of  admiration  from  every  age,  where  they  were  un- 
able to  purchase  the  favor  of  this  monster,  they  were 
executed  as  we  have  described.  More  than  a  hun- 
dred were  despatched  in  one  week  ;  and  the  women 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  91 

* 

and  children,  who  crowded  around  the  fatal  spot  to 
witness  the  last  agonies  of  their  beloved  relatives, 
filled  the  air  with  lamentations  and  groans  of  des- 
pair ;  for  they  had  not  only  lost  the  beings  in  whom, 
their  affections  were  garnered  up,  but  their  bereave- 
ment was  aggravated  by  the  thoughts  of,  it  might  be, 
the  starvation  which  was  to  follow.    Their  whole  sub- 
sistence, in  these  cases,  being  derived  from  their  daily 
labor.     And  widows  and  fatherless  babes,  now  de- 
prived of  all  means  of  support,  as  the  future  rose 
before  them,  yielded  to  the  consummate  misery  of 
their  condition  with  a  hopelessness,  the  heart  that 
experienced  such  bitterness  could  alone  understand. 
Those  who  were  rich  enough  to  purchase  their 
liberty  and  exemption  from  the  penalty  paid  by  the 
poor,  were  permitted  to  seek  refuge  from  justice  by 
going  to  a  foreign  land.    America  offered  the  neces- 
sary asylum,  and  many  with  their  families  embarked 
for  its  friendly  shores.     Vessels  were  crowded  with 
these  refugees  to  such  a  degree,  that  there  was  great 
danger  lest  a  sufficiency  of  water  and  provisions 
could  be  laid  in  for  them  during  the  voyage. 

These  unjust  proceedings,  however,  soon  got 
spread  abroad,  and  reached  the  ears  of  the  king,  who 
was  highly  displeased  at  the  mercenary  spirit  he  had 
displayed  in  the  ministration  of  his  official  power. 
His  further  spoils  were  therefore  cut  short,  by  being 
summoned  to  London,  and  new  means  devised  for 
others  to  execute  vengeance  on  the  remaining  thou- 


BRITISH     REBELLION. 


Bands  of  rebels  yet  pining   in  suffering  within  the 
surrounding  jails  and  prisons. 

While  these  cruelties  were  being  perpetrated  in 
Somersetshire,  Monmouth  had  reached  London,  and 
contrary  to  established  rules  on  such  occasions,  (un- 
less mercy  was  to  be  exercised  towards  a  prisoner,) 
he  was  conveyed  to  the  king's  palace,  where  an  in- 
terview with  James  was  promised.  This  inspired 
the  duke  with  something  like  hope;  he  thought 
within  himself,  "He  is  my  father's  brother,  and  when 
he  sees  me  he  may  relent."  But  his  calculations 
were  all  on  one  side.  How  could  he  have  expected 
the  slightest  sympathy  or  favor  from  a  kinsman, 
whom  he  had  held  up  to  the  public  as  having  com- 
mitted such  dreadful  crimes  ?  Had  he  forgotten  ac- 
cusing him  before  the  people,  in  the  market-place  of 
Lyme,  of  poisoning  his  own  brother,  the  late  king, 
of  cutting  the  throat  of  another  man,  and  of  incen- 
diarism ?  Or  did  he  suppose  he  could  be  ignorant  of 
the  proclamation  containing  these  accusations?  Had 
rebellion  been  the  only  thing  chargeable  against 
Monmouth,  the  king's  clemency  might  have  been 
exercised,  from  considerations  of  the  brother  whom 
he  so  tenderly  loved.  But  with  this  array  of  crimes 
before  him,  James'  heart  was  not  only  steeled  against 
Monmouth,  but  incensed  with  the  highest  indigna- 
tion ;  and  he  determined  to  see  him  face  to  face,  that 
he  might  feel  the  justice  of  the  blow  he  was  about 
to  strike,  when  he  reflected  on  the  atrocities  he  had 
laid  to  his  charge. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  93 

The  duke,  with  his  hands  and  arms  bound  by  a 
silken  cord,  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the 
king,  who,  seated  in  his  chair  of  state,  sternly  await- 
ed his  reception.  The  letters  addressed  to  the  queen 
dowager  and  the  lord  treasurer,  from  Ringwood,  had 
produced  no  effect ;  and  as  Monmouth  entered,  and 
glanced  at  his  uncle,  he  saw  there  was  little  to  hope. 
As  to  the  crimes  he  had  committed  under  the  head 
of  high  treason,  they  never  once  entered  his  mind, 
the  utter  misery  and  humiliation  of  his  situation  ab- 
sorbing every  other  consideration;  and,  falling  on 
his  knees,  he  crept,  with  his  arms  bound,  to  the  feet 
of  James,  and  cried  for  pardon  and  for  mercy  at  his 
hands,  declaring  all  he  had  done  was  the  fault  of 
others,  that  he  had  been  made  the  victim  of  vile 
plotters  against  the  government,  whose  sophistry 
had  worked  upon  his  too  easy  and  too  credulous 
temper — especially  Ferguson,  whose  name  he  loaded 
with  every  vile  epithet  he  could  command. 

During  this  declamation  of  innocence  on  his  part, 
and  inculpation  of  his  colleagues,  the  king  never 
once  relaxed  a  muscle.  The  stern  man  of  business 
sat  in  inflexible  rigidity  of  purpose,  and  regarded 
Monmouth  as  a  traitor  whom,  had  he  felt  inclined  to 
spare,  justice  asserted  was  of  too  dangerous  a  cha- 
racter to  be  let  loose  again  upon  society.  His  ven- 
geance was  partly  slaked  by  beholding  his  abject 
humility,  crawling  upon  the  ground,  and  acknow- 
ledging himself  the  tool  of  others,  whose  weak  judg- 

,...-.. »   . 


94  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

ments  he  had  not  the  wisdom  or  the  prudence  to  set 
aside,  by  either  duty  to  his  sovereign,  or  affection 
to  the  brother  of  a  parent  whose  love  had  been  so 
signally  displayed  towards  him. 

"  Do  you  forget,"  James  asked,  in  reply  to  his 
cry  for  forgiveness,  "  the  proclamation  at  Lyme  ?" 
compressing  his  lips,  and  eyeing  him  severely. 

"  I  never  saw  it,"  was  Monmouth's  groaning  reply. 

"  And  you  mean  to  aver  that  you  signed,  with- 
out reading,  a  paper  of  such  magnitude?"  the  king 
asked,  with  a  stern  and  searching  look,  in  which 
contempt  was  strongly  mingled. 

"  I  did,"  said  Monmouth,  in  a  faltering  voice. 

"O  vile  hypocrisy,"  was  the  reply.  "Do  not 
imagine  I  could  believe  such  a  monstrous  falsehood 
for  a  moment  ?  Ah,  no ;  you  knew  what  it  con- 
tained well  enough. 

"  You  covered,  too,  your  wishes  to  possess  the 
throne,  by  assuming  the  championage  of  the  Pro- 
testant religion,  it  appears.  What  a  pity  you  did 
not  succeed,"  he  continued,  deridingly. 

Love  of  life  in  the  timorous,  what  will  it  not  lead 
to !  Monmouth's  too  amiable  docility  of  character 
may  truly  be  said  to  have  been  his  ruin.  And  the 
yielding  nature  of  his  temper,  so  remarkable  through- 
out his  unfortunate  career,  in  his  extremity  to  con- 
ciliate the  king,  led  him  to  make  a  confession  in 
favor  of  Catholicism. 

James  heard  all  he  said,  but  told  him  his  case 
was  utterly  beyond  the  pale  of  mercy  this  side  the 

;••. ; 


BRITISH    REBELLION.  95 

grave ;  that  the  aggravated  nature  of  his  offences 
precluded  its  possibility ;  and,  recommending  him 
to  propitiate  that  tribunal  before  which  he  was  so 
soon  to  appear,  he  ordered  the  officers  to  reconduct 
him  to  the  Tower. 

"  Then,  all  hope  is  over,"  exclaimed  Monmouth, 
springing  to  his  feet.  And,  summoning  the  courage 
which  desperation  so  often  calls  forth,  he  turned  his 
back  on  the  king,  and  left  his  presence. 

By  many  historians,  this  abject  solicitation  for 
pardon,  from  a  sovereign  whom  he  had  sought  in. 
every  way  to  injure,  is  placed  to  Monmouth's  ac- 
count as  the  greatest  possible  instance  of  cowardice 
and  meanness.  But,  before  pronouncing  this  sum- 
mary verdict,  we  should  pause  ;  and,  comparing  this 
act  with  his  former  conduct,  where,  on  a  similar  oc- 
casion, though  not  reduced  to  the  extreme  verge  on 
which  he  now  stood,  certainly  presented  a  widely 
different  aspect. 

In  the  measures  concerted  for  a  rebellion  in 
the  year  1681,  during  Charles  the  Second's  life,  it 
will  be  well  remembered,  Monmouth  took  a  leading 
part.  The  plot  was  discovered,  and  all  the  conspira- 
tors were  taken  up  except  himself.  He  found  a  hid- 
ing place,  but  was  subsequently  induced  by  a  friend, 
who  looked  forward  to  the  future  and  another  more 
fortunate  rising,  to  solicit  his  father's  forgiveness, 
which  he  obtained,  and  he  was  recalled  to  court. 
Before  he  received  a  pardon,  according  to  the  form 


00  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

requisite  to  make  it  legal,  Charles  besought  him  to 
give  the  names  of  his  colleagues,  promising  the  duke 
that  no  punishment  should  result  from  his  confidence. 
Monrnouth  yielded  to  this  solicitation,  and  forthwith 
a  paragraph  appeared  in  the  newspapers,  that  he 
had  given  a  promise  to  the  king  never  again  to  at- 
tempt a  rebellion  against  the  government. 

Monmouth  read  this  notice  with  feelings  of  the 
highest  indignation,  and,  as  soon  as  he  received  the 
formal  form  of  forgiveness,  lost  no  time  in  retrieving 
his  pledged  word  to  his  friends,  by  recanting  all  the 
king  had  caused  to  be  published  with  regard  to  him- 
self. This,  of  course,  showed  the  honorable  nature  of 
his  character,  but  a  severe  penalty  awaited  him  for  it. 

This  avowal  came  to  Charles'  ears,  and  he  was, 
with  his  colleagues,  banished  from  the  kingdom. 

He  had  frequently  been  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
the  seat  of  Sir  Thomas  Wentworth  in  Toddington ; 
but  no  one  knew  the  real  cause  which  led  him  there. 
To  the  baronet's  daughter  all  these  visits  were  made ; 
though  she  was,  in  the  eyes  of  her  parents,  betrothed 
to  a  young  man  of  great  worth  and  wealth.  "When 
Monmouth  received  this  mandate  from  his  father,  he 
fled  to  Lady  Wentworth,  and,  confiding  to  her  the 
.*  unexpected  blow  his  father  had  dealt  him ;  in  the 
wild  and  romantic  devotion  which  filled  her  heart, 
she  at  once  declared  she  would  go  with  him. 

This  sacrifice  so  far  exceeded  all  he  could 
have  imagined  possible  in  a  young  and  beautiful 


BRITISH      REBEL  LI  OX.  97 

girl,  idolized  by  her  parents,  and  sought  in  mar- 
riage by  a  nobleman  whose  claims  to  the  affection  of 
woman  could  not  be  for  a  moment  disputed ;  that 
Monmouth's  love  and  admiration  were  not  only  the 
raptures  of  excited  triumph,  but  secured  to  that  mis- 
guided being  the  devotion  of  a  heart  which  never  for 
a  moment  after  swayed  from  its  object,  during  life% 

She  accompanied  him  privately  to  Holland  ;  but 
they  did  not  reside  together,  as  he  wished  to  conceal 
from  his  father  that  he  had  a  companion  in  exile. 
But  at  his  death  they  enjoyed  all  the  felicity  their 
situation  admitted,  in  a  union  of  hearts  that  had  but 
one  drawback,  the  illegitimacy  of  the  compact. 

In  this  connection  we  may  see  the  explanation  of 
all  we  may  have  deemed  inconsistent  in  Monmouth's 
character  and  conduct.  To  thoughts  of  Lady  Went- 
worth  were  alone  owing  his  humiliation  to  James ; 
for  well  he  knew  the  anguish  his  death  would  occa- 
sion her.  His  heart,  his  courage  sunk,  as  her  agony 
rose  before  him,  and  for  her  sake  he  would  have 
crawled  like  the  veriest  reptile  before  any  man. 

There  is  nothing  to  justify,  and  much  to  condemn 
in  this  conduct;  but  I  deemed  the  explanation  I 
have  given,  necessary,  in  order  to  account  for  so  un- 
manly a  display  of  sunken  and  abject  humanity,  so 
different  from  his  former  conduct,  wherein  he  had 
acted  so  heroically. 

Lord  Grey  was  also  brought  before  the  royal 
presence,  but  his  magnanimous  bearing  was  in  strong 

' 


93  BRITISH     REBELLION'. 

contrast  to  the  unhappy  duke.  He  answered  all  the 
charges  which  the  king  made  against  him,  with  a 
readiness  and  promptitude  that  quite  affected  James. 
He  acknowledged  being  engaged  in  the  rebellion, 
and  explained  the  part  he  took  in  it,  with  an  un- 
flinching front.  He  attempted  no  palliation,  and 
asked  no  favor.  Calm,  collected,  self-possessed,  he 
heard  the  sentence  pronounced  on  such  offenders, 
with  an  aspect  which  defied  both  pity  and  reproach, 
and  rejoined  his  fellow-prisoner,  after  the  interview 
was  ended,  with  sorrow  for  the  fate  of  him  whom  he 
would  gladly  have  died  to  save. 

They  were  conveyed  back  to  the  Tower ;  and  a 
weeping  and  sympathizing  populace,  thronged  the 
streets  in  their  endeavors  to  obtain  a  look  at  the  pri- 
soners, especially  Monmouth;  who,  although  there 
had  been  no  public  manifestation  in  his  favor,  was 
greatly  beloved  by  a  large  majority  of  the  London- 
ers ;  especially  by  those  occupying  the  middle  sta- 
tions of  life,  who  in  heart  being  Protestants,  had  all 
along  secretly  hoped  that  he  would  have  been  victo- 
rious, and  caused  the  religion  they  loved  to  be  esta- 
blished. The  Papist  king  they  hated,  but  he  held 
them  in  awe,  and  they  made  no  attempt  at  a  rescue, 
though  in  their  hearts  they  longed  to  tear  Monmouth 
from  his  grasp. 

They  embarked  Trom  the  wharf,  and  were  rowed 
till  they  reached  the  ditch  which  joins  with  the 
river,  when  they  came  to  a  water  gate,  called  "  Trai- 
tor's Gate,"  to  which  all  state  prisoners,  in  former 


•BRITISH    REBELLION.  99 

times,  were  conveyed,  leading  immediately  into  the 
Tower. 

Monmouth's  depression  was  greater  than  ever, 
and  seemed  almost  to  threaten  his  life.  Hope  had 
entirely  fled,  and  the  thought  of  what  was  so  soon  to 
follow,  steeped  his  soul  in  the  very  depths  of  despair. 
The  king,  meanwhile,  showed  he  was  not  unmindful 
of  his  unfortuate  and  misguided  kinsman.  He  sent 
his  wife,  accompanied  by  the  keeper  of  the  privy 
seal,  Lord  Clarendon,  to  visit  the  prisoner.  Their 
presence  lit  up  a  monentary  gleam  of  hope  in  Mon- 
mouth's heart,  for  Clarendon  might  be  able  to  influ- 
ence the  king,  as  he  knew  he  possessed  some  pow- 
er ;  and  to  him  he  resolved  to  apply.  The  Duchess 
of  Monmouth  had  brought  her  children  with  her, 
thinking  that  in  an  hour  like  this  he  would  forget 
the  past,  repent  his  unfaithfulness  towards  her,  and, 
in  the  plenitude  of  his  repentance,  ask  her  forgive- 
ness, and  sue  for  that  return  of  affection  of  which  his 
desertion  had  rendered  him  so  unworthy.  But  her 
woman's  reasoning  she  soon  found  vain.  Her  hus- 
band received  her  very  coldly,  and,  forgetful  often 
of  her  presence,  addressed  himself  almost  wholly  to 
the  earl,  pleading,  with  all  the  eloquence  he  could 
command,  the  misery  of  his  condition,  and  beseech- 
ing his  interference  in  his  behalf.  But  Clarendon 
gave  him  no  encouragement ;  although  he  deeply 
pitied  the  blind  infatuation  which  had  led  him  to 
peril  life  in  a  cause  which  excluded  every  hope  of 


100  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

the  royal  mercy.  They  soon  left ;  Clarendon  feeling 
he  had  discharged  an  unpleasant  duty,  and  the  duch- 
ess convinced  that,  if  he  had  been  permitted  to  live, 
his  regard  for  her  and  her  children  had  ceased  for 
ever.  To  him  she  was  tenderly  attached,  and  her 
misery  could  scarcely  be  said  to  be  heightened  by 
the  doom  that  threatened  him.  Her  heart  had  been 
lacerated  in  every  pore  by  the  estrangement  which 
followed  his  acquaintance  with  Lady  Wentworth, 
and  her  existence  had  been  shrouded  in  worse  than 
the  gloom  of  death,  for  there  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest.  In  her  case 
there  was  no  repose.  Her  thoughts  were  like  the 
troubled  deep,  and  in  the  virtuous  seclusion  she 
sought,  she  gave  herself  wholly  up  to  learning  each 
movement  of  her  husband  and  his  guilty  companion, 
through  persons  employed  by  him.  How  harassing 
such  a  situation  was,  may  more  easily  be  conceived 
than  described.  The  climax,  therefore,  to  which  it 
led,  could  scarcely  be  said  to  augment  her  sufferings ; 
and,  as  she  left  the  Tower,  and  reflected  on  his  cold- 
ness, sorrow  and  pity  gave  place  to  indignation, 
and  a  feeling  which  involuntarily  arose  in  her  breast, 
that  his  punishment  was  deserved. 
Shakspeare  has  said,  that 

"  Hell  holds  no  fury  like  a  woman  scorned." 

The  expression  of  the  sentiment  is  somewhat  ex- 
aggerated, but  man  can  hope  for  little  mercy  at  the 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  101 

tribunal  of  broken  faith,  broken  vows,  and  a  broken 
heart.  The  duchess  went  forth  with  feelings  natu- 
ral to  a  woman  injured,  as  she  felt  she  had  been ; 
and  resigned  him,  in  the  stoicism  which  followed 
her  outraged  affections,  to  his  fate,  without  a  tear. 

Towards  evening  James  dispatched  two  bishops 
of  the  Episcopal  church  to  visit  Monmouth,  with 
the  solemn  message  that  the  day  was  fixed  for  his 
execution. 

It  was  Monday,  and  "Wednesday  was  the  day 
appointed.  When  Monmouth  heard  them  utter  this 
determination  of  the  king,  the  blood  receded  from 
his  cheeks,  his  tongue  clave  to  the  roof  of  his 
mouth,  and  he  trembled,  like  an  aspen  leaf,  from 
head  to  foot.  The  bishops  were  much  moved  by 
witnessing  his  distress,  and  besought  him  in  his 
hour  of  need  to  seek  succor  from  above,  to  confess 
his  contrition  to  that  Almighty  Euler  whom  he  had 
offended,  and  endeavor  to  find  peace  and  acceptance 
while  hope  and  life  remained. 

But  Monmouth  could  think  only  of  endeavoring 
to  obtain  forgiveness  and  a  respite  from  this  cruel  and 
overwhelming  sentence.  And,  instead  of  acting  on 
the  advice  so  kindly  given,  occupied  himself  wholly 
in  writing  letters  to  all  the  influential  men  he  knew, 
to  intercede  for  him  with  the  king,  that  he  might 
not  be  executed. 

The  bishops  visited  him  again  and  again  during 
the  two  intervening  days,  and  explained  the  doc- 


102  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

trines  of  the  cliurch,  exhorting  him  to  confess  his 
guilt  in  drawing  his  sword  against  the  government, 
and  his  sorrow  in  having  done  so.  This  Monmouth 
refused  to  do.  He  felt  he  was  in  the  right,  he  said ; 
he  wished  to  deliver  the  nation  from  the  scourge  of 
Papacy,  and  restore  to  the  people  the  unmolested 
practice  of  the  religion  they  loved. 

The  good  bishops  then  alluded  to  the  crime  he 
had  been  guilty  of  in  deserting  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  living  scandalously  with  Lady  Wentworth. 
But  Monmouth  had  set  up  a  standard,  it  would 
seem,  for  himself  on  this  occasion.  He  expatiated 
on  the  misery  of  his  conjugal  life,  and  that  having 
been  led  to  marry  at  a  time  when  he  had  no  judg- 
ment to  guide  him  in  his  choice  of  a  wife,  by  the 
advice  of  his  father ;  nothing  but  unhappiness  had 
followed,  which  resulted  in  a  life  of  unrestrained 
viciousness, — for,  finding  his  hearthstone  destitute  of 
charm,  he  had  sought,  in  his  commerce  with  the 
world,  the  enjoyment  which  his  home  could  not 
yield  him.  With  Lady  Wentworth  he  had  enjoyed 
the  happiness  naturally  accruing  from  the  exercise 
of  pure  and  warm  affections;  and  he  had  become 
since  that  connection  a  reformed  man. 

The  bishops  were  perfectly  astounded  at  the  false 
ideas  he  entertained  of  God's  holy  laws  and  men's 
obligations  to  morality ;  and  expressed  to  him  fully 
the  errors  under  which  he  labored,  by  explaining 
his  delinquency  of  conduct  in  the  eyes  of  Him  who 


BRITISH      REBKLHON.  103 

seeth  not  as  man  seeth.  Monmouth  listened,  but 
supported  his  argument  by  showing  that  the  com- 
pact had  been  sanctified  by  mutual  prayer  for  divine 
guidance,  and  that  happiness  and  peace  had  followed. 
That  she  was  one  of  the  purest  and  best  of  women, 
and  in  the  sight  of  God  they  were  bound  by  ties 
which,  if  man  condemned,  He  justified :  for  he  felt 
their  prayers  had  been  answered  and  blest. 

Under  such  convictions — for  it  was  evident  he 
was  sincere — they  recommended  him  to  prayer  and 
supplication  for  the  removal  of  the  veil  of  error 
which  enveloped  him,  and  urged  him  to  beseech, 
long,  and  earnestly,  to  be  enlightened  in  his  darkness, 
and  delivered,  while  life  was  yet  spared,  from  its 
thraldom;  for  the  sinner's  hope  remained  open  to 
him  and  every  penitent  who  applied  for  mercy. 

This  he  promised,  and  they  then  left  him,  feeling 
for  the  depravity  he  still  so  obstinately  persevered  in. 

Monmouth  looked  upon  these  bishops  as  bigots, 
and  without  any  true  Christian  feelings.  He  had 
heard  of  Dr.  Tennison,  a  pious  divine,  and  to  him 
he  resolved  to  have  recourse,  hoping  his  views  would 
be  not  only  tolerated  but  extolled.  In  this  idea  he 
was  exceedingly  mistaken.  Dr.  Tennison  expressed 
fully  and  faithfully  his  condemnation  of  the  duke's 
conduct  with  regard  to  the  rebellion, — declared  it  to 
be  a  crime  of  the  highest  order,  since  it  violated 
that  Scripture  which  saith :  "  Fear  God,  and  honor 
the  king."  And,  as  to  his  connection  with  Lady 


104  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

•  '  «, 

Wentworth,  he  looked  upon  it  in  its  true  light ;  he 
had  violated  another  of  God's  commandments  ;  and 
in  his  arguments  of  justification,  told  him  he  had 
acted  under  a  most  fatal  error. 

Monmouth,  notwithstanding,  persevered  in  his 
own  belief  in  these  matters  ;  and  therefore  pre- 
cluded himself  from  the  possibility  of  that  spiritual 
consolation  the  doctor  came  to  offer.  The  duke  wish- 
ed to  partake  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  while  still 
holding  to  these  delusive  opinions,  but  Tennison  re- 
fused to  administer  it  to  one  who  felt  neither  peni- 
tence or  remorse  for  crimes  such  as  he  had  committed. 

The  hours  sped  their  flight,  and  the  time  of  his 
execution  drew  nigh ;  and  miserable  and  determin- 
ed as  his  wife  had  felt  when  she  parted  with  him, 
her  affection  prompted  another  visit  to  her  erring 
though  beloved  and  suffering  husband.  She  set 
forth  once  more,  accompanied  by  her  children,  to 
see  him,  and  this  time  Monmouth  received  her  kind- 
ly. It  was  the  last  time  they  were  to  meet  on  earth. 
He  gazed  on  his  children  with  despair  imprinted  on 
his  once  eloquent  and  beaming  countenance — then, 
relaxing  for  a  moment,  caressed  and  bade  them  fare- 
well. His  duchess  was  perfectly  overwhelmed;  and, 
forgetful  of  all  the  wrongs  she  had  received,  her  an- 
guish threatened  almost  to  annihilate  her  on  the  spot. 
Those  who  beheld  it  were  so  much  affected  at  the 
agony  she  endured,  that  the  stoutest  shed  tears.  She 
was  conveyed  from  the  Tower  more  dead  than  alive. 


BRITISH     REBELHOK.  '    ,         105 


with  her  weeping  children,  with  no  other  thought 
filling  her  breast  than- misery  at  the  irrevocable  doom 
that  so  certainly  awaited  him. 

"  Oh,  woman's  love,  'tis  known  to  cling 
Too  often  round  a  worthless  thing, 
And  still  with  fondness  to  adore 
A  heart  whose  love  has  long  been  o'er ; 
Beholding  only  in  the  past, 
Devotion,  too,  too  great  to  last ; 
By  cunning  women  drawn  astray, 
To  walk  in  error's  devious  way. 
But  truth  at  bottom  sure  there  lies, 
And  in  this  thought  her  tears  she  dries. 
Tims  woman's  love  excuses  makes, 
And  still  to  hope  herself  betakes." 

Monmouth  beheld  his  wife's  emotion  with  per- 
fect apathy.  He  shed  no  tear,  made  no  lamenta- 
tion ;  but  bade  her  farewell  in  tones  of  bitter  and 
utter  despair.  This  was  about  nine  o'clock ;  and  ten 
was  the  hour  fixed  for  his  execution.  The  coach  to 
convey  him  from  the  Tower  was  ready,  and  the 
wretched  man  realized  the  awfulness  of  his  condi- 
tion. He  asked  if  Dr.  Tennison  could  not  accompany 
him,  and  the  bishops.  The  request  was  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  and  they  again  urged  upon  him  the 
necessity  of  revoking  his  opinions  of  his  past  deeds. 
But,  strange  to  say,  his  answers  were  the  same ;  he 
could  not  be  brought  to  think  himself  in  error,  and 
replied  to  their  importunities  with  an  unshaken  be- 
lief in  his  own  innocence. 

6 


100  BRITISH      REBELLION, 

The  rebellion,  lie  said,  was  commenced  with,  the 
holy  and  just  purpose  of  delivering  the  nation  from 
Papacy.  And  Lady  Wentworth  had  been  the  guar- 
dian angel  who  had  saved  him  from  an  erring  life  ; 
declaring  her  piety  and  virtue  all  that  was  excellent 
and  lovely  in  woman,  and  that  these  had  created 
in  him  an  attachment  that  could  only  terminate 
with  his  existence. 

Monmouth  had  many  sympathizers  in  this  his 
hour  of  need.  London  was  in  a  tumult  of  distress. 
The  idol  of  thousands  of  devoted  hearts  was  being 
led  to  the  scaffold,  to  die  for  the  Protestant  religion. 
Old  and  young  lamented  over  the  cruel  sacrifice. 
The  houses  were  crowded  with  anxious  and  weeping 
spectators  as  he  passed,  and  nothing  but  sobbing  and 
wailing  was  heard.  His  mind  seemed  somewhat 
cheered  at  beholding  these  instances  of  affection ;  for, 
as  he  passed  the  guards,  when  he  reached  the  place 
of  execution,  he  smiled  and  bowed  to  them,  and 
then  mounted  the  scaffold  with  a  firm  and  easy  step. 

The  surrounding  multitude  were  in  hopes  that 
he  would  have  addressed  them ;  and  there  was  an 
intimation  to  that  effect,  to  which  he  replied  that  the 
solemnity  of  his  situation  did  not  permit  his  doing 
so.  "I  die  a  Protestant  of  the  Church  of  England,' ' 
was  all  he  said.  But  this  was  sufficient ;  these  few 
words  spoke  volumes — he  was  a  martyr  to  his  faith  ; 
and  again  rushed  forth  the  tide  of  pity  and  admira- 
tion for  the  fate  of  one  so  brave  and  good. 

* 


•     *        •  -rv* 

BRITISH     nEBELLION.  107 

'V  '    ..«'•' ''.^Bk-* 

The  divines  now,  for  the  last  time,  asked  for  a 
revocation  of  his  sentiments.  To  which  he  replied, 
that  he  still  firmly  adhered  to  all  he  had  said.  Then 
they  burst  forth,  and  with  angry  tones  reproved  his 
wickedness,  even  with  death  staring  him  in  the  face. 
He  turned  from  what  he  considered  their  unfeeling 
behavior,  and  addressing  himself  to  the  most  notori- 
ous of  executioners,  the  celebrated  Jack  Ketch,  asked 
him  to  spare  his  sufferings  as  much  as  possible. 
"Do  not  hack  me,"  he  cried,  "  as  you  did  Lord  Kus- 
sel,  striking  him  four  or  five  times  before  you  sever- 
ed his  head  from  his  body.  Let  me  see  the  axe." 
Ketch  gave  it  him,  and  he  felt  the  blade,  to  assure 
himself  of  its  keenness.  "  It  is  not  very  sharp,"  he 
remarked.  "  Here  are  six  guineas  for  you  ;  and  if 
you  do  your  work  quickly,  you  shall  receive  more 
from  my  servant  after  I  am  dead."  He  then  drew 

off  his  coat  and  cravat,  and  bared  his  throat.    Then, 

. 
calling  his  servant,  gave  him  a  tooth-pick  for  Lady 

"Wentworth.  He  then  laid  his  head  on  the  block, 
and  awaited  the  stroke  of  the  executioner — the  di- 
vines kneeling  at  his  side,  and  fervently  praying 
that  his  imperfect  repentance  would  be  accepted  by 
the  divine  mercy. 

Jack  Ketch  was  much  softened  by  what  the  duke 
had  said  to  him,  and  still  more  by  the  guineas  he 
had  received.  He  tried  to  deal  an  effective  stroke, 
but  his  hands  trembled,  and  the  first  blow  made  but 
a  very  slight  impression.  The  duke  rose  and  gazed 


109  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

reproachfully  at  him,  while  the  hearts  of  the  people 
were  agonized  at  the  sight. 

Ketch  summoned  all  his  coolness,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  take  a  better  aim  this  time ;  but  again  he 
was  foiled — it  effected  nothing.  A  third  and  a  fourth 
blow  followed,  but  the  work  remained  incomplete. 
The  body  moved,  while  the  head,  unsevered,  exhi- 
bited the  gashes  made  in  the  neck,  which  so  enraged 
the  beholders,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  they  could 
be  restrained  from  rushing  forth  and  tearing  the 
wretched  executioner  to  pieces,  for  what  they  consi- 
dered intentional  barbarity,  to  please  the  king.  Cries 
of  indignation  rose  from  the  crowd.  "  Throw  the 
monster  off  the  rails,"  was  heard  on  all  sides.  Ketch 
was  frightened,  and  flinging  down  the  axe,  exclaimed 
aloud :  "  My  heart  fails  within  me,  and  I  cannot  do 
the  deed."  He  resumed  it,  however,  again,  and  two 
more  strokes  extinguished  the  last  spark  of  life  in 
the  amiable  but  erring  and  unfortunate  Duke  of 
Monmouth.  The  head  was  severed  at  last  by  a  knife. 
Jack  Ketch  now  trembled  for  himself;  for  the  rage 
of  the  assembled  mob  burst  forth  in  groans  and 
hisses,  and  if  they  could  have  got  hold  of  him  they 
would  have  taken  summary  vengeance.  It  was  deem- 
ed necessary,  under  these  circumstances,  to  appoint 
him  a  strong  protective  guard,  when  the  execution 
was  over,  to  save  his  life,  as  he  went  from  the  scaf- 
fold to  his  home. 

The  martyrdom,  as  it  was  called,  being  ended, 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  109 

many  ascended  the  scaffold  to  dip  their  handker- 
chiefs in  his  blood ;  and,  the  crowd  gradually  dis- 
persing, order  and  peace  succeeded.  But  sadness 
and  melancholy  reigned  throughout  the  metropolis 
for  many  weeks,  and  hatred  to  James  increased. 

Monmouth's  remains  were  deposited  in  a  coffin 
covered  with  black  velvet,  then  conveyed  to  St.  Pe- 
ter's Chapel,  in  the  Tower,  and  buried  beneath  the 
communion  table,  there  to  remain  till  the  last  trump 
shall  sound  and  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  be  revealed. 


• 


CHAPTEK    V. 


"We  have  traced  the  Duke  of  Monmouth's  career 
from  the  commencement  to  its  melancholy  and 
wretched  close ;  and,  dropping  the  tear  of  pity  over 
the  grave  of  one  in  whom  crime  and  virtue  were  so 
strangely  blended,  pass  on  to  give  the  details  of  what 
yet  remained,  consequent  to  the  rash  and  misguided 
infatuation  of  contending  for  the  crown  of  England, 
without  that  strength  and  organization  in  a  pure  and 
just  cause,  which  is  of  itself  an  earnest  of  success. 

James'  unpopularity  with  the  people — his  Popish 
administration,  and  tyrannical  and  morose  temper — 
seemed  to  form  just  grounds  for  an  invasion  of  his 
rights ;  and  in  an  evil  hour,  we  find  the  unfortunate 
Monmouth  made  an  easy  prey  to  a  scheming,  dis- 
contented band,  seeking  only  their  own.  gratification 
in  this  high-handed  measure. 

The  misery  it  entailed,  we  have  as  yet  seen  only 
in  part ;  but  once  more  unrolling  the  scroll  on  which 
are  recorded  the  mighty  deeds  of  the  past,  we  will 
behold,  as  through  a  glass,  darkly,  things  and  per- 
sons which  humanity  and  compassion  would  fain  blot 
from  the  mind  and  memory  forever ;  but  incomplete- 


BRITISH     REBELLION. 


Ul 


ness  of  onr  task  would  be  the  result.  We  therefore 
resume  the  path  from  which  we  have  momentarily 
diverged,  and,  returning  once  more  to  the  unfortu- 
nate rebels  languishing  in  Somersetshire  jails  and 
prisons,  behold  a  picture  whose  revolting  cruelty  is 
without  a  parallel. 

In  addition  to  those  hung  .by  Kirke,  more  than 
twenty  were  executed  under  Feversham's  order,  with 
little  less  barbarity,  without  trial  by  either  judge  or 
jury;  and  he  would  have  gone  on  increasing  the 
number,  had  not  the  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells  in- 
terfered and  declared  such  a  summary  measure  to  be 
wilful  murder.  The  prisoners,  he  maintained,  were 
entitled  to  a  trial  by  the  laws  of  their  country,  and  to 
be  allowed,  in  the  extremity  of  its  administration, 
the  privileges  it  provided,  in  order  to  a  preparation 
for  another  world. 

Feversham  laughed  to  scorn  this  humaife  inter- 
ference, but  was  obliged  to  yield  to  the  reasoning  of 
this  amiable  and  excellent  divine.  Dispatches  were 
therefore  forwarded  to  the  king  to  this  effect ;  upon 
which  the  selection  of  a  judge  was  determined  on. 

Feversham,  like  Kirke,  was  distinguished  for  a 
cruel  recklessness  of  character ;  though  they  differed 
greatly  in  its  manifestation.  Kirke's  nature  was 
coarse  and  brutal,  and  he  delighted  in  ferocity  of 
every  description.  The  lowest  devices  of  torture  he 
loved  to  glut  over ;  and  a  tale  of  misery  succeeding 


1 


112  BRITISH 


REBELLION. 


any  act  of  barbarity  perpetrated  by  himself  or  his 
soldiers,  was  sure  to  elicit  roars  of  laughter. 

In  person  he  was  low  of  stature,  short  necked, 
with  squat  shoulders,  while  his  physiognomy  was 
one  which  science  stamps  with  the  worst  characte- 
ristics of  human  kind.  He  had  a  low  forehead,  high 
and  protruding  cheek-bones,  sunken,  small,  ferret- 
looking  eyes ;  short,  snub  nose,  and  a  receding  mouth, 
with  compressed,  thin  lips.  His  hair  was  red  and 
wiry,  and  a  pair  of  bushy  whiskers,  descending  to  the 
chin,  lent  to  his  aspect  the  crowning  point  of  ugliness, 
ferocity  and  ruffianism.  A  highwaymanjar  a  bandit 
seemed  to  be  the  only  ideas  you  would  assimilate 
with  a  man  of  his  description  ;  for  branded  like  the 
brow  of  Cain  was  the  visage  of  him  whose  soul  de- 
lighted in  deeds  fit  only  for  the  chronicles  of  the 
prince  of  darkness. 

His  dress  consisted  of  the  most  grotesque  colors, 
where  he  could  assume  them  consistently  with  his 
regimentals ;  which,  with  his  fat  and  ill-shaped 
figure,  always  notwithstanding  slovenly  attired, 
completed  a  whole  which,  happily  for  an  imitative 
world,  is  seldom  seen. 

Feversham  was  a  Frenchman,  a  nephew  to  Tu- 
renne,  and  was  in  many  respects  in  direct  contrast 
to  Kirke.  He  was  tall  and  finely  formed,  and  his 
open,  high,  expansive  forehead,  acquiline  nose,  and 
full  round  mouth,  would  have  conveyed,  but  for  a 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  113 

pair  of  small,  deep-set,  gray  and  twinkling  eyes,  an 
idea  of  frankness  and  nobleness  of  soul.  Ambition 
was  his  ruling  and  absorbing  passion.  Love  of  dis- 
play, as  a  natural  consequence,  followed  ;  and  his 
dress  always  exhibited  the  finished  toilette  of  a  cour- 
tier. He  was  also  essentially  a  man  of  pleasure,  and 
in  city,  camp  or  town,  indulged  freely  in  its  pursuit. 
He  sought  a  victory  of  hearts  as  well  as  arms,  and 
where  enjoyment  of  the  hour  was  his  only  aim,  his 
victims  excited  no  feelings  either  of  pity  or  commis- 
seration  for  betrayed  and  outraged  virtue,  or  bro 
ken,  sorrowing  hearts  and  desolated  homes. 

He  sought  to  cover  his  vices  under  the  name  of 
pleasure,  and  refined  away  their  magnitude  under 
the  sanction  of  the  usages  of  war.  In  the  pitiless  ex- 
ecution of  the  unfortunate  rebels,  he  saw  only  the 
gratification  of  his  sovereign,  and  his  own  advance- 
ment in  his  favor,  in  consequence.  This  interference 
of  the  bishop  cut  short  the  length  of  the  list  he  had 
hoped  to  present  ;  but  he  had  aided  in  the  victory, 
and  the  laurel  awaited  him,  he  knew,  when  he  reach- 
ed  London,  in  the  praises  he  felt  his  due  when  he 
should  present  himself  before  the  king.  He  ceased 
his  work,  therefore,  till  the  news  reached  him  that 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Jeffrys  was  appointed  to  be  the 
judge  in  the  trials  of  the  prisoners  which  were  to 
take  place,  and  then  set  off  for  London. 

Desolate  and  wretched  as  the  lot  of  the  poor 
rebels  was,  there  was  yet  found  one  to  pity  and 

6* 


JF 


114  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

compassionate  their  sufferings.  One  who,  like  How- 
ard, went  forth  on  his  errand  of  mercy  to  minister 
to  their  necessities,  and  pour  the  balm  of  consolation 
into  their  wounded  and  depressed  souls.  Forgetful 
of  the  cause  in  which  they  fought,  as  being  opposed 
to  the  tenets  of  his  own  faith,  he  thought  only  of 
suffering  humanity,  and  affording  relief  to  the  dis- 
tressed, and  he  went  forth  with  the  wine  and  oil  of 
a  truly  Christian  heart,  to  soothe  the  sorrowing,  and 
lift  the  fallen,  by  pointing  them  to  that  rest  beyond 
this  world,  purchased  by  the  Son  of  God  himself 
for  poor,  erring,  guilty  man. 

And  his  was  not  merely  an  empty  form  of  words ; 
from  his  own  private  purse  he  fee'd  the  jailors,  so 
as  to  induce  them  to  soften  their  rigorous  conduct 
towards  their  prisoners,  abridged  his  own  limited 
means,  and  sacrificed  everything  he  possessed  be- 
yond the  barest  subsistence  to  add  something  to  the 
scanty  fare  of  the  prison  allowance. 

He  was  a  bishop  of  the  Eoman  Catholic  religion, 
and  although  wedded  to  many  errors  and  supersti- 
tions, exhibited  in  his  whole  life  and  conversation 
the  purest  elements  of  Christianity  in  the  practice 
of  those  virtues  so  eminently  enforced  by  its  Divine 
founder.  Visiting  and  relieving  the  sick  poor,  cloth- 
ing the  naked,  exploring  the  prisons  and  jails  of  the 
surrounding  country,  and  without  regard  to  religion 
or  politics,  remembering  only  that  they  were  fellow- 
beings  who  needed  succor  in  their  hour  of  adversity. 


BRITISH      U  E  BE  LLION.  115 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  on  entering  Bridge- 
water  the  rebels  defaced  the  cathedral,  by  taking 
from  it  all  the  lead  they  could  find  to  make  bullets ; 
and  even  proceeded  to  demolish  the  altar,  till  pre- 
vented by  Lord  Grey.  This  was  the  beloved  edifice 
of  Bishop  Ken,  who  now  so  kindly  ministered  to 
them ;  where  he  preached  to  his  people  every  Sab- 
bath, and  performed  other  pastoral  rites  belonging 
to  his  faith. 

But  this  formed  no  stumbling-block  to  the  good 
bishop ;  his  benevolence  of  character  overcame  these 
objections  as  they  rose  in  his  mind,  and,  like  the 
rays  of  the  glorious  sun,  dispelled  every  shadow  of 
rancor  within  his  heart,  as  the  monarch  of  the  day 
disperses  the  shade  and  gloom  which  envelopes  all 
things  by  his  presence. 

The  rebels  blessed  his  venerable  approach  to  their 
cells,  and  the  smile  of  inward  peace  irradiating  his 
aged  countenance,  lit  up  in  their  disconsolate  bosoms 
many  a  bright  gleam  of  hope  and  joy,  that  earth 
boasted  at  least  one  who  cared  for  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  the  unfortunate.  He  talked  to  them, 
prayed  with  them,  and  their  daily  meals  they  knew 
were  improved  by  the  provision  made  by  this 
good  man.  The  dew  of  grateful  love  watered  their 
desponding  hearts,  and  the  hymn  of  thankfulness 
and  praise  arose  to  Him  who  had  sent  one  of  his 
servants  to  their  relief  in  time  of  greatest  need. 

jflH&fet 

life  abounds  in  contrasts,  and  extremes  meet  OB 


110  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

all  grounds.  As  Bishop  Ken's  character  rises  in 
Christian  beauty  and  benevolence  before  us,  that  of 
Jeffrys  presents  itself  in  all  the  hideous  deformity  of 
fiendish  malignity.  He  was  truly  a  man  after  the 
king's  own  heart.  Merciless,  sanguinary,  and  de- 
lighting in  cruelty,  as  a  glutton  his  food,  James 
selected  him  as  his  chief  justice  on  this  occasion, 
knowing  the  hardness  of  his  heart  and  the  callous- 
ness of  his  nature.  The  poor  prisoners  had  lan- 
guished in  jail  from  July,  and  it  was  now  Septem- 
ber. The  assizes  were  to  commence  on  Jeffrys' 
arrival,  and  cruelties  perpetrated  which  caused  the 
appellation  of  the  "Bloody  Assizes"  to  rest  on  the 
time  and  place  of  these  trials,  which  have  been  hand- 
ed down,  and  will  continue  to  be  so,  probably  to  the 
end  of  all  things. 

Nature,  it  would  seem,  had  begun  this  moral  de- 
formity by  giving  him  a  person  and  voice  singularly 
hideous.  When  he  spoke,  from  earliest  childhood, 
the  sounds  produced  a  strange  sensation  on  the  ear. 
There  was  a  ferocity  in  his  tone,  so  remarkable  that 
its  notice  rarely  escaped  the  most  careless  observer. 
A  horrible  grin  distinguished  his  features  when  he 
attempted  to  smile,  and  his  closed  teeth  the  inward 
passion  he  indulged  whenever  anything  crossed  him. 
His  boyhood  was  marked  by  every  juvenile  de 
pravity.  Eobbing  birds'  nests,  and  plucking  asunder 
the  nestlings  while  alive ;  maiming  cats  and  dogs ; 
aad  cruelly  misleading  old  and  poor  individuals  who 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  117 

might  happen  to  seek  any  information  from  the 
young  scapegrace,  who  thus  manifested  the  germs  of 
his  marked  and  inhuman  manhood. 

He  yfp.s  bred  to  the  law,  and  early  distinguished 
himself  in  his  way.  He  became  established  at  the 
Old  Baily  bar,  and  in  this  school  for  morals  had  an 
opportunity  for  displaying  the  natural  bent  of  his 
talents.  The  most  degraded  and  infamous  charac- 
ters were  tried  under  his  eye,  and  to  question  and 
cross-question  those  offenders  of  public  justice  de- 
volved on  him.  And  he  was  well  fitted  for  such  an 
employment,  eliciting  by  interrogations  of  the  most 
debased  description,  the  laugh  of  the  court  at  his 
ribald  wit,  but  at  the  same  time  the  degradation,  in 
public  and  private  estimation  of  the  man,  to  the 
lowest  level  of  corrupt  humanity.  Jeffrys  cared  little 
for  the  impression  he  made  on  others,  provided 
things  went  well  with  himself.  To  rise  in  the  world 
was  the  mark  he  aimed  at,  and  he  cared  little  by 
what  means,  so  that  the  end  was  attained.  His  hard- 
ened nature  delighted  in  the  daily  task  before  him, 
and  with  the  triumph  of  a  fiend  he  raved  at  the  trem- 
bling culprits  before  him,  with  language  which,  for 
coarseness,  not  even  the  lowest  dens  of  infamy 
could  surpass.  He  fairly  bullied  the  witnesses,  on 
all  occasions,  to  allowing  every  thing  or  charge  he 
chose  to  suggest  or  prefer  against  the  unhappy 
victims  he  tried,  and  committed  them  by  wholesale 
to  the  far  off  shores  of  the  convict,  with  a  feeling 


118  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

as  exulting  as  it  was  revolting  to  every  humane  and 
civilized  mind. 

His  person  was  thin  and  meagre  in  the  extreme, 
and  his  hollow  cheeks  and  sharp  feature*  gave  to 
his  large  and  glaring  eyes  an  aspect  of  ferocity  in 
perfect  keeping  with  his  character.  People  shrunk 
from  his  gaze,  as  from  the  look  of  a  serpent,  and  re- 
coiled from  the  venom  of  his  tongue  with  terrific 
horror.  His  enmity  was  a  fearful  thing,  so  that  few 
dared  to  excite  it  by  either  censure  or  expostulation. 

Yet,  with  all  these  revolting  characteristics,  he 
was  reckoned  a  useful  member  of  the  profession. 
"He  was  a  man  of  great  dispatch,  and  accomplished 
more  than  any  of  his  predecessors  in  the  same 
time.  The  law  was  rigorously  exercised  and  vigor- 
ously maintained,  and  that  was  one  of  the  nation's 
greatest  safeguards,"  was  remarked  of  him. 

Promotion  followed  these  panegyrics,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course ;  and,  after  a  few  years'  training  in  his 
Old  Bailey  preparatory,  we  find  him  elevated  to  the 
rank  of  common  sergeant,  and  from  there  stepping 
into  the  recordership  of  London;  his  propensi- 
ties strengthening  under  the  favor  he  received,  and 
every  form  of  humanity  rooted  out  of  that  altar  of 
cruelty,  set  up  in  his  corrupt  heart.  Fear  has  often 
been  said  to  be  the  parent  of  order.  If  so,  the  public 
would  have  presented  one  unbroken  feature  of  its 
power.  But  rewards  for  apprehension  found  victims 
without  number,  indicted  for  the  most  trivial  often- 


i. 


BRITISH     REBELLION;  110 

ces;  but  which,  under  him,  were  made  to  appear 
crimes  of  enormous  magnitude,  and  floggings  and 
pillories,  in  consequence,  became  almost  an  every 
day  occurrence. 

Evil  passions  were  therefore  the  constant  and 
current  example,  and,  like  the  volcanic  eruption  of 
Vesuvius,  darkened  the  horizon  by  the  foul  and 
lurid  atmosphere  that  reigned  with  such  gloomy 
boding  throughout  the  land.  All  were  affected  by 
it,  for  favor  rested  with  complacent  eye  on  the  man 
who  rose  to  eminence  and  wealth,  and  by  a  mis- 
called conception  of  the  term,  gave  it  the  name  of 
prospering  in  all  he  did. 

To  instance  one  perversion  of  public  sentiment 
in  this  matter:  a  poor  woman  was  brought  before 
him  for  some  trifling  offence,  and  after  frightening 
her  with  remarks,  at  which  modesty  shrunk  abashed, 
in  his  wanton  cruelty  he  ordered  her  to  be  whipped 
at  the  cart's  end ;  and  calling  the  executioner  of  this 
revolting  sentence,  he  desired  him  to  "  well  flog  her 
delicate  ladyship,  and  if  she  sung  a  pleasant  tune  to 
his  capers,  to  let  it  quicken  his  flying  motions,  and 
the  effect  would  be  charming."  Yet  such  an  act 
brought  no  censure. 

Then,  to  commit  people  to  the  pillory  seemed  a 
darling  delight.  Oh,  how  he  laughed  and  clapped 
his  hands  when  he  described  the  cruelties  of  that 
horrid  invention  of  torture  and  humiliation !  "Eotten 
eggs  axe  such  a  dainty  pleasure,  and  will  wash  thy 


120  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

fair  face  so  nicely !  brickbats  comb  thy  sleek  head ! " 
Then  the  bystanders  would  break  forth  in  a  loud 
laugh,  too  plainly  indicating  the  morals  of  a  commu- 
nity, and  the  effect  that  precept  and  example  have 
upon  the  multitude,  who  have  no  other  mode  of  in- 
struction than  that  afforded  by  those  whom  station 
in  life  has  made  their  superiors. 

Charles  the  Second  professed  Protestantism  ;  and 
Jeffrys,  without  one  thought  beyond  the  profits  to 
be  obtained  by  being  either  one  thing  or  another, 
was,  like  his  sovereign,  a  professed  Protestant  of  the 
Church  of  England.  But  a  dissenter  of  any  kind  he 
loved  to  treat  with  his  usual  summary  malignity, 
whether  Catholics  or  Presbyterians.  Torment,  in 
short,  was  his  chief  delight ;  and,  so  he  had  victims 
on  whom  to  exercise  this  element  of  his  nature,  he 
cared  not  from  what  source. 

His  language  on  such  occasions  was,  that  the  day 
was  approaching  when  non-conformists  would  be 
served  as  they  ought  to  be.  That  Catholic  priests 
might  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  soon 
they  would  be  quartered  alive  ;  or  perhaps  more  di- 
vertingly  set  upon  saws  and  nicely  divided — or  else 
warmed  by  a  slow  fire  from  which  they  had  no 
escape. 

With  such  presentations  he  delighted  to  amuse 
himself,  to  see  the  shrinking  of  the  poor  priests,  as 
he  sketched  their  tortures  in  perspective. '' 

His  private  life  was  such  as  might  naturally  be 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  121 

expected  from  such  an  outward  manifestation  of 
vicious  corruption  of  feeling  and  principle.  He 
drank  to  excess  ;  and  the  midnight  revel  constantly 
followed  the  enormities  of  his  daily  practices.  There 
the  low  brutishness  of  his  nature  wallowed,  like  the 
swine,  in  his  filth ;  and,  in  a  companionship  with 
men  of  his  own  order,  he  imbibed  fresh  supplies  of 
the  spirit  of  evil,  and  increased  energy  for  the  exer- 
cise of  his  demoniac  propensities. 

These  boon  partakers  in  these  revellings,  how- 
ever, were  persons  far  below  him  in  point  of  posi- 
tion in  life ;  and,  although  around  the  festive  board 
it  was  "hail  fellow,  well  met,"  when  these  orgies  were 
ended,  and  sleep  had  recalled  reason  from  her  ban- 
ished throne  to  resume  her  dominion,  his  fury  was 
equal  to  the  drunken  love  he  expressed  the  previous 
night,  for  admitting  to  his  fellowship  wretches  as 
low  in  the  grade  of  society  as  they  were  debased  in 
morals  and  hackneyed  in  every  species  of  vice  ;  so 
that,  whenever  they  approached  him  in  public  by 
day,  they  were  sure  to  meet  a  rude  and  contemptu- 
ous repulse.  The  night,  however,  repaid  them  for 
all.  The  bottle  purchased  a  renewal  of  their  friend- 
ship and  a  forgiveness  of  their  wrongs  of  pride.  The 
wild  beast  of  the  sun  was  -the  tamed  beast  of  the 
moon ;  and  stars  rose  and  set  over  the  dark  places  of 
souls  who  sought  that  miry  slough  in  which  to  revel 
in  all  vh.e  depths  of  degradation. 

CharJes  despised  this  man  as  he  deserved,  and 


122  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  great  reprobation.  But 
then  he  was  useful,  and  performed  what  no  other 
man  would  who  either  respected  himself  or  valued 
the  good  opinion  of  others.  So  that  the  necessity  of 
the  times  pleaded  in  his  favor,  while  every  attribute 
of  justice,  humanity,  and  virtue,  condemned  him  to 
his  real  and  infamous  level. 

When  James,  at  the  death  of  his  brother,  ascend- 
ed the  throne,  and  Papacy  again  set  up  its  standard, 
after  a  lapse  of  more  than  a  century,  the  people  of 
England  were  thrown  into  a  complete  state  of  mourn- 
ing. Nearly  the  whole  population  were  Protestants, 
and  the  bigotry  which  he  was  known  to  feel,  incited 
just  fears  for  their  future  tranquillity. 

The  rebellion,  as  we  have  seen,  grew  out  of  this 
state  of  public  sentiment.  Jeffrys,  soon  after  James' 
accession,  -became  a  peer  of  the  realm,  and  managed, 
with  his  usual  dexterous  villany,  to  subjugate  all 
other  favorites  to  his  own  advantage.  Lord  Guild- 
ford,  the  former  favorite  of  the  king,  was  displaced 
from  his  high  position,  and  made  to  yield  in  his  fa- 
vor. His  summary  proceedings  towards  disaffected 
whigs,  made  him  valuable  as  a  protector  and  vindi- 
cator of  the  government. 

Algernon  Sydney,  one  of  those  whose  avowed 
principles  did  honor  to  humanity,  for  the  liberal 
views  he  sought  to  disseminate,  was  executed  under 
Jeffrys'  order  in  a  manner  so  inhuman  and  so  dis- 
graceful, that  even  the  rankest  tories  condemned  its 


BRITISH     REBELLION*.  123 

shameful  perpetration.  But  lie  gloried  in  being  cen- 
sured by  the  people.  The  sovereign's  favor  was  his 
only  object,  and  James  saw  in  him  the  exact  person 
for  such  like  purposes  and  offices.  He  was  his  faith- 
ful friend  and  servant,  and  one  in  all  difficulties  to 
have  recourse  to.  When,  therefore,  trials  of  the 
rebels  were  suggested  to  the  king,  Jeffrys  was  im- 
mediately selected  to  preside,  as  his  nature  would 
here  find  a  congenial  task,  and  the  revenge  of  his 
sovereign,  he  knew,  would  find  its  highest  grati- 
fication in  the  utmost  cruelty  that  mind  or  heart 
could  devise. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


It  Avas  early  in  September  when,  with  full  instruc- 
tions on  this  point,  the  lord  chief  justice  set  out 
for  Somersetshire,  and  in  the  administration  of  his 
unlimited  prerogative,  as  a  hungry  lion  in  his  lair, 
he  gloated  over  the  victims  of  his  unheard-of  bar- 
barity, till  the  most  hardened  and  vicious  sickened  at 
the  thought  of  such  human  monstrosity. 

Jeffrys  was  accompanied  by  four  other  judges ; 
and  about  this  time  Lord  Guildford,  keeper  of  the 
privy  seal,  was  taken  ill.  Although  during  his  life 
he  had  been  more  conscientious  than  Jeffrys,  yet  the 
near  prospect  of  death  now  revealed  to  him  the  many 
enormities  he  had  been  guilty  of  in  his  servile  wish 
to  serve  an  earthly  sovereign,  in  direct  opposition  to 
the  will  of  his  heavenly  one.  Troubled,  and  sorrow- 
ful in  mind,  he  determined  on  seeing  James  while 
strength  remained,  to  plead  for  mercy  for  the  unfor- 
tunate rebels,  whose  fate,  he  knew,  if  left  entirely  to 
Jeffrys,  would  be  cruel  to  the  last  degree.  But  he 
pleaded  in  vain ;  the  king  was  invulnerable  to  all 
entreaties  on  this  point,  and  replied  to  Guildford's 
supplications  by  taunting  him  with  a  want  of  loyalty 
and  affection  both  for  his  person  and  interest.  Lord 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  125 

Guildford  was  too  weak  for  any  thing  further ;  lie 
retired  from  the  royal  presence  with  his  conscience 
lightened  by  the  thought  of  having  done  his  duty,  if 
he  had  not  achieved  his  object.  His  death  followed 
in  a  few  days  after ;  when  a  letter  was  immediately 
dispatched  to  Jeffrys,  from  the  king,  informing  him 
that  the  reward  of  his  faithful  services  would  be  the 
great  seal — thus  intimating  his  wishes,  without  ex- 
pressing them,  that  mercy  for  Monmouth's  follow- 
ers would  find  no  favor  from  him.  How  fully  this 
tool  of  power  acted  out  the  veiled  suggestion  of 
implacable  vengeance,  will  be  seen  by  the  revolting 
recital  of  the  following  pages. 

The  military  power  throughout  the  country  were 
ordered  to  act  in  entire  obedience  to  Jeffrys'  com- 
mand, and  with  every  thing  to  abet  his  sanguinary 
power,  he  arrived  at  Winchester,  in  the  county  of 
Hampshire,  and  commenced  the  work  he  loved 
so  well. 

This  place  was  some  distance  from  the  seat  of  war, 
but  a  number  of  the  rebels  having  fled  thither,  he 
resolved  on  making  this  his  first  resting  place ;  to 
find  out  all  he  could  by  means  of  spies  and  scouts, 
and  then  to  perform  his  mission. 

Two  cases  at  once  presented  themselves.  John 
Nelthorpe,  a  lawyer,  who  had  been  outlawed  for 
joining  in  the  Bye-house  plot,  had  fought  in  the  rebel 
army,  and  immediately  after  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor 
had  fled  to  Winchester,  in  company  with  John  Hicks, 


126  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

a  non-conformist  divine,  who  had  also  joined  the  in- 
surgent troops.  These  men  on  their  arrival,  fearing 
to  present  themselves  at  an  inn,  had  gone  to  a  house 
beyond  the  town,  occupied  by  a  widow,  and  repre- 
senting themselves  as  two  benighted  and  tired  tra- 
vellers, the  compassionate  lady  gave  them  lodgings 
for  the  night  and  fed  them  at  her  own  table. 

This  was  the  Lady  Alice  Lisle,  now  far  advanced 
in  years.  Her  husband  had  been  one  of  Cromwell's 
adherents,  and  had  sat  in  the  long  parliament ;  but 
she  had  never  shared  his  political  views,  always  re- 
taining the  high  sense  of  loyalty  she  had  been  nur- 
tured in  from  her  earliest  childhood.  Their  conju- 
gal happiness,  notwithstanding  this  difference  of  sen- 
timent, had  suffered  no  diminution ;  she  was  exem- 
plary in  her  conduct  both  as  a  wife  and  mother,  and 
possessed  a  character  for  amiability  and  benevolence 
which  endeared  her  to  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew 
her.  A  tale  of  sorrow  always  called  forth  the  tear 
of  sympathy,  and  a  ready  redress,  so  far  as  laid  in 
her  power ;  and  when  these  two  individuals,  worn 
with  fatigue  and  disappointment,  presented  them- 
selves before  her,  she  saw  only  their  distress,  kindly 
took  them  in,  and  ministered  to  their  wants. 

This  was  discovered,  and  a  warrant  immediately 
issued  for  their  apprehension.  Her  house  was  sur- 
rounded by  soldiers,  under  Feversham's  orders.  The 
search  commenced,  Hicks  was  found  in  an  adjoining 
malt-house,  and  Nelthorpe  in  the  chimney.  They 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  127 


« 


ere  taken  and  conveyed  to  the  jail,  to  await  their 
trial,  and  Lady  Alice  Lisle  with  them.  Dragged, 
without  regard  to  her  venerable  age,  her  Christian 
character,  and  those  virtues  which  had  made  her  the 

1  'admiration  of  all  who  knew  her,  to  occupy  a  loath- 
some dungeon,  for  the  exercise  of  that  benevolence 
to  suffering  humanity  which  should  have  excused 
even  a  knowledge  of  the  crime  of  the  offenders,  of 

•  which  she  was  entirely  ignorant. 

Lady  Alice  was  brought  up  for  trial  first,  and  her 
entrance  in  the  court  excited  a  painful  sensation 
throughout.  Many  ladies  of  her  acquaintance  were 
present,  and  on  seeing  one  whom  they  so  deeply 
loved  reduced  to  such  suffering,  and  in  a  situation 
so  affecting,  burst  into  tears,  and  their  sobbings  filled 
the  whole  place.  The  character  of  Jeffrys  was  two 
well  known  to  indulge  hope  in  a  single  breast ;  and 
as  a  lamb  brought  before  a  lion  they  regarded  their 
beloved  frfend. 

The  first  witness  called  to  testify  against  her  was 
named  Dunne.  He  had  been  present  at  the  arrest  of 
the  rebels ;  and,  on  being  interrogated,  was  going  to 
relate  the  simple  facts  in  such  a  manner  as  would 
entirely  exculpate  Lady  Lisle  from  all  blame,  by 
stating  that  her  receiving  these  men  was  like  her 
constant  habits  to  the  unfortunate.  But  Jeffrys  inter- 
fered, and  stormed  and  raved  to  such  a  degree,  that 
he  was  frightened  almost  out  of  his  wits — calling 
him  a  liar  and  snivelling  presbyterian  villain.  "  Gen- 


128  BRITISH    REBELLION. 

tlemen  of  the  Jury,"  he  exclaimed,  "  take  notice  of 
the  carriage  of  this  fellow ;  a  Turk  is  a  saint  to  such 
as  he  is.  0,  what  a  generation  of  vipers  I  live 
amongst." 

Lady  Alice  sat  in  the  court  with  her  soul  weighed*"*' 
down  with  woe.  "  O  religion,"  she  thought,  "  that  un- 
der its  name  horrors  like  these  should  come  forth. 
0,  mockery  to  its  Divine  founder!"  And  her  heart 
sunk  within  her  at  the  issue  she  saw  so  likely  to 
follow  this  barbarian's  conduct. 

Dunne  at  length  said,  "I  do  not  know  what  to 
do  or  say,  my  Lord,"  so  completely  bewildered  was 
this  well-meaning  man  by  the  ferocity  of  the  looks, 
tones  and  manners  of  Jeifrys.  "  0,  the  brazen-faced, 
impudent  villain,"  again  he  burst  forth.  "You, 
gentlemen  of  the  crown,  see  that  an  information  of 
perjury  be  preferred  against  this  scoundrel." 

When  the  witnesses  had  finished  all  they  were 
able  to  say,  which  amounted  to  very  little,  as  will 
be  seen  by  the  above,  being  all  browbeaten  after  the 
same  fashion,  Lady  Alice  was  called  on  to  give  her 
defence. 

She  arose  tremblingly,  and  at  once  proceeded  to 
say  that  she  had  taken  in  Hicks,  from  knowing  war- 
rants were  out  against  him  for  field-preaching;  but 
being  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  had  never  dreamed  of 
his  having  been  concerned  in  the  rebellion,  and  taking 
up  arms  against  the  government.  "  I  succoured  him," 
she  said  with  her  sweet  mild  voice,  "because  I 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  120 

- 

thought  he  was  persecuted  while  in  the  service  of  his 

Divine  Master,  but  am  innocent  from  any  other  cause 
in  his  behalf."  The  court  could  not  but  regard  what 
she  said  as  exculpating  her  from  all  blame,  and  at 
once  concluded  so  innocent  and  gentle  a  being  must 
be  discharged.  But  in  this  idea  they  were  greatly  mis- 
taken ;  for  no  sooner  had  she  finished  than  JefFrys 
broke  forth  with,  "  A  snivelling  Presbyterian  !  I  tell 
you  there  is  not  one  of  you  canting  Presbyterians  but 
had  a  hand  in  the  rebellion — you  are  all  a  set  of 
villains.  Presbyterianism  is  only  another  word  for 
villany  of  all  kinds.  They  are  all  knaves,  and  thou 
amongst  the  number.  They  are  the  wretches  who 
have  disturbed  the  peace  of  the  kingdom  for  half  a 
century.  They  plucked  royalty  from  the  throne  once, 
and  would  do  so  again.  Your  husband  joined  in  this 
league,  and  received  his  honors  for  his  traitorous 
villany.  Madam,  you  know  it,  and  the  dangerous 
principles  you  have  derived  from  him  must  be  ar- 
rested in  their  progress.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
whigs  and  dissenters  have  done  their  work  of  des- 
truction, causing  more  bloodshed  and  anarchy  than 
any  other  known  element  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

The  jury  retired.  But  his  impatience  broke  forth 
soon  after  with  words  of  loud  wonder  and  astonish- 
ment at  the  time  they  were  taking  in  a  case  that  a 
moment  was  sufficient  to  decide.  And  if  they  did 
not  at  once  do  so,  he  would  lock  them  up  all  night. 

Fear  seems  to  have  had  an  entire  influence  on  all 
7 

*  f- 


130  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

who  appeared  before  him,  witnesses  and  jury;  and 
we  well  know  how  this  can  sway  and  even  paralyse 
the  judgment.  There  certainly  was  nothing  in  this 
amiable  woman  worthy  of  death.  The  simple  exer- 
cise of  her  benevolent  feelings  resulted  in  her  being 
taken  up,  but  her  words  showed  she  knew  not  that 
these  men  had  done  aught  offensive  to  the  govern- 
ment. For  his  persecution  for  preaching  she  had 
compassionated  Hicks,  and  the  other  as  his  friend, 
^hat  verdict  could  a  jury  award  but  an  acquittal 
of  guilt,  from  a  statement  like  this  ? 

Her  gentle  manners,  her  sweet  voice,  whose  sil- 
very tones  penetrated  every  heart  present,  and  whose 
amiable  and  benevolent  character  filled  every  tongue 
with  praise,  caused  an  anxiety  the  most  intense ;  and 
when  the  jury  entered,  that  dense  crowd  held  their 
breath  till  the  foreman,  on  being  interrogated,  gave 
his  answer,  and  Guilty  sounded  through  the  court. 

The  feeling  it  produced  may  be  imagined  but  not 
described ;  and  when  the  prisoner  was  conducted  to 
her  cell,  tears  of  anguish  fell  from  every  eye  at  the 
thought  of  such  glaring  injustice. 

The  following  morning  the  barbarian  Jeffrys 
pronounced  the  sentence,  that  she  should  be  burnt 
alive  that  very  day.  But  the  indignation  excited 
against  him  was  so  great  that  he  feared  to  carry  it 
into  execution.  Many  even  of  the  devoted  adherents 
to  the  crown  remonstrated  against  such  cruelty,  while 
the  clergy  of  "Winchester  Cathedral  put  in  their  plea 


BRITISH     REBELLIOH.  131 

for  a  mitigation  of  this  cruel  doom.  Jeffrys  was  a 
little  afraid  of  too  much  bravado  towards  them,  as 
they  were  in  high  repute  with  the  tory  party,  and 
conceded  five  days  to  the  unfortunate  prisoner. 

During  that  time  every  public  effort  was  made  in 
her  favor.  But  the  known  cruelty  of  James'  nature 
prevented  much  from  being  anticipated  from  his 
clemency  to  one  whom  his  brother-spirit  in  blood- 
thirstiness  had  condemned.  Ladies  of  high  rank 
were  deeply  interested,  and  petitions  flowed  in  from 
all  quarters.  Even  Clarendon,  the  brother-in-law  of 
the  king,  pleaded  for  her ;  but  he  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  all  their  entreaties  for  her  pardon,  granting  only  a 
commutation  of  her  sentence  to  being  hanged  in- 
stead of  being  burnt. 

In  less  than  a  week  she  was  brought  forth  from 
her  dungeon  to  ascend  the  place  of  execution  in 
"Winchester  market.  During  her  confinement  she  had 
wasted  much,  but  the  serenity  of  her  countenance 
indicated  the  inward  peace  she  enjoyed.  And  amid 
the  bleeding  anguished  hearts  of  thousands,  she  was 
put  to  death,  leaving  behind  a  testimony  of  the  pow- 
er of  that  blessed  religion  in  whose  cause  she  suffered, 
and  another  stigma  on  the  character  of  a  monarch 
who  stands  alone  as  a  ruler,  for  that  savage  implaca- 
bility which  could  consign  an  aged  innocent  woman 
to  the  scaffold,  for  the  exercise  of  that  virtue  which 
is  the  highest  feminine  adornment. 

The  next  came  Mrs.  Gaunt,  another  aged  widow. 


132  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

A  lady  of  high  esteem,  an  anabaptist,  but  extremely 
liberal  in  her  religious  views,  exercising  her  benefi- 
cence on  all  classes  and  professions  of  doctrinal  be- 
lief, wherever  it  was  needed.  But  her  being  a  dis- 
senter formed  a  sufficient  ground  for  the  uncon- 
trolled ferocity  of  Jeffrys.  She  was  brought  before 
him  charged  with  harboring  rebels  and  traitors,  so 
far  back  as  the  Rye-house  plot.  The  real  nature  of 
her  offence  now  was  receiving  into  her  house  and 
concealing  one  of  Monmouth's  men.  When  the  man 
presented  himself  before  her  hospitable  dwelling, 
with  his  clothes  torn  by  hiding  from  his  pursuers  in 
brakes  and  woods,  almost  fainting  with  hunger  and 
thirst ;  regardless  of  the  penalties  proclaimed  for  re- 
ceiving and  succoring  such,  with  the  kind  compas- 
sion that  had  always  distinguished  her,  she  found  for 
him  what  she  had  hoped  would  prove  a  safe  and  se- 
cure hiding  place  in  an  out-house  at  the  outskirts  of 
her  estate,  used  as  a  shelter  from  the  elements  for  her 
cows.  First  providing  him  with  a  change  of  linen 
and  other  necessaries,  and  with  food  and  water.  She 
knew  her  danger  well,  but  supported  by  those  scrip- 
tures which  said,  "  Hide  the  outcasts,  betray  not  him 
that  wandereth."  Isaiah,  16  :  3,  4  verses.  "  Let 
my  outcasts  dwell  with  thee."  Obadiah,  13,  14  ver. 
"  Thou  shouldest  not  have  given  him  up  that  escap- 
ed in  the  day  of  distress,"  &c. — she  turned  not  away 
when  he  sought  a  refuge  and  succor  at  her  hands. 
When  she  was  brought  into  court,  her  appearance 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  133 

indicated  the  perfect  composure  of  her  mind.  She 
had  been  imprisoned  some  weeks,  but  her  confine- 
ment had  not  wrought  its  usual  work.  Her  bearing 
was  erect  and  fearless,  and  she  had  not  wasted,  but 
her  feelings  may  be  better  imagined  than  described 
when  the  witness  first  called  up  against  her  was  the 
very  man  whom  she  had  so  humanely  befriended. 

"  And  now,  fellow,"  began  Jeffrys,  "  what  have 
you  to  say  about  this  woman  ?  speak  out  freely,  she 
belongs  to  the  race  of  dissenters,  and  they  are  all 
rogues." 

It  seems  scarcely  credible  that  this  man  could 
turn  against  a  benefactress  who  had  periled  her  life 
for  him  in  the  hour  of  his  great  extremity ;  but  it 
is  nevertheless  true.  To  gain  the  reward  and  the 
indemnity  from  punishment  proclaimed  to  all  who 
should  bring  evidence  against  persons  harboring 
rebels,  had  induced  this  poor  wretch  to  violate  the 
most  sacred  and  touching  of  all  earthly  obligations ; 
for  what  can  equal  that  of  staking  a  life  for  the  re- 
lief of  another,  and  that  other  an  utter  stranger, 
whose  poor  and  suffering  situation  alone  pleaded  for 
compassion? 

When  interrogated  thus  by  the  judge,  he  gave 
the  particulars  of  the  case  as  they  really  were.  The 
thought  of  his  own  exemption  from  the  doom  of  so 
many  of  his  unfortunate  associates,  seemingly  blind- 
ing his  judgment  to  all  considerations  beyond.  But 
his  eye  studiously  avoided  that  of  Mrs.  Gaunt.  She 


134  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

fixed  her  gaze  of  consternation  on  his  face,  while 
giving  his  testimony  to  the  exulting  Jeffrys,    but 
said  nothing  in  return  to  such  monstrous  ingratitude. 
When  the  man  had  finished,  he  broke  forth  with 
"  Good !  you  are  an  honest  Peter  Lumpkin,  you  are. 
And  I  hope  your  example  of  showing  up  these  be- 
nevolent ladyships,  who  are  so  zealous  in  acting 
against  their  king,  will  effectually  put  a  stop  to  such 
doings  for  the  future."     He  then  pronounced  the 
sentence  upon  the  prisoner,  in  the  fiendish  tones 
which  distinguished  his  voice  at  all  times,  but  height- 
ened  considerably  in  malignity  when  giving  full 
scope  to  his  cruel  nature  on  such  occasions.     Turn- 
ing to  Mrs.  Gaunt,  he  vociferated,  "  You  are  to  be 
taken  at  once  to  the  place  of  execution,  madam,  on 
a  hurdle,  and  then  your  body  is  to  be  burned  until 
you  are  dead."     She  heard  this  horrible  doom  pro- 
nounced with  a  composure  which  surprised  all  who 
beheld  her,  and  was  led  forth  by  the  guard  to  the 
place  appointed,  unresistingly  and  uncomplaining. 
Her  heroism  penetrated  the  heart  of  every  beholder, 
and  almost  every  eye  shed  tears  at  her  fate,  regard- 
ing her  as  a  martyr  for  the  Christian  fortitude  she 
displayed  and  the  principles  from  which  she  acted. 
The  straw  and  wood,  which  was  so  soon  to  con- 
sume her,  was  piled  on  by  busy  hands.    On  reaching 
it,  she  stooped  down  and  put  the  straw  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  would  soonest  ignite  the  whole.  Then 
addressing  the  assembled  multitude,  she  said :  "  You 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  135 

know  the  offence  which  is  attributed  to  me :  I  plead 
guilty  to  the  charge.  In  obedience  to  my  Lord's 
command,  I  took  the  stranger  in,  clothed  and  fed  the 
hungry,  and  sheltered  the  outcast.  For  this  I  am  to 
be  put  to  a  cruel  death.  My  Saviour  suffered  an  ex- 
cruciating death ;  and  shall  I  complain  and  shrink 
from  it  ?  No.  And  in  his  name,  and  with  his  exam- 
ple before  me,  I  pray  for  my  murderers.  Father," 
lifting  her  eyes  towards  Heaven,  and  clasping  her 
hands,  "  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

William  Penn,  the  Quaker,  was  one  who  wit- 
nessed her  being  tied  to  the  stake,  where  she  was 
consumed;  and  declared  to  a  friend  after,  that  he 
had  never  heard  or  read  of  anything  that  so  truly 
breathed  the  spirit  of  Christ,  as  the  patience  and 
meekness  with  which  she  bore  this  unjust  and  un- 
feeling expiation  of  the  law's  most  cruel  decree. 
This  was  the  last  female  who  suffered  in  England 
•for  political  crimes. 

Hicks'  and  Nelthorpe's  execution  followed  soon 
after.  Nelthorpe  was  hanged,  but  Hicks  was  burnt. 
He  was  a  Presbyterian  divine,  and  had  often  preach- 
ed in  the  open  fields  to  hundreds  of  hearers,  who, 
knowing  James'  zeal  for  the  Catholic  religion,  loved 
to  rally  round  the  Protestant  banner  wherever  it  was 
unfurled,  and  to  drink  in  the  doctrines  most  dear  to 
their  hearts.  Jeffrys  belonged  to  the  Church  of 
England,  and  hated  Popery  as  much  as  he  did  non- 
conformity ;  but  then  the  great  seal  was  in  view,  and 


13d  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

to  please  his  sovereign,  both  interest  and  nature  con- 
curred to  the  commission  of  cruelties  which  will 
render  the  autumn  of  1685  one  to  be  remembered 
as  long  as  our  language  shall  last  and  memory  exist. 

When  Jeffrys  had  finished  his  work  in  Hamp- 
shire, he  proceeded  to  Dorsetshire,  and  in  the  prin- 
cipal town  took  up  his  quarters.  Then,  with  a 
bravado  of  character  natural  to  one  lost  not  only  to 
humanity,  but  all  sense  of  shame,  he  ordered  the 
court-room  to  be  gorgeously  hung  with  scarlet  or 
crimson  velvet — and,  previously  to  entering  on  his 
work  of  deathr  attended  church. 

The  edifice  was  one  of  rare  and  picturesque 
beauty,  and  stood  within  an,  enclosure  surround- 
ed with  yew  and  cypress  trees,  where  vaults  and 
grave-stones  studded  the  verdant  sod.  It  was  al- 
most entirely  covered  with  ivy,  apt  companion  of 
decay.  In  a  flaunting  equipage  Jeffrys  drove  up 
to  the  gate,  and  with  a  red,  bloated  face,  pushed  into 
the  door, — the  peaceful  inhabitants  shrinking  from 
his  gaze,  as  from  some  monstrous  reptile ;  for  well 
they  knew  the  merciless  cruelties  that  were  so  soon 
to  follow  on  the  poor  prisoners  languishing  in  the 
jails  and  prisons  of  the  surrounding  country.  All 
through  Dorsetshire,  Monmouth's  memory  was  cher- 
ished with  almost  idolatrous  fondness.  Here  the 
brightest  hopes  had  been  indulged  for  his  success ; 
and  here  now  languished  thousands  of  once  happy 
families,  in  misery  and  gloom,  not  only  for  the  fate 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  187 

of  their  beloved  leader,  but  for  their  own  dear  fa- 
thers, brothers,  and  husbands,  who  were  so  soon  to 
be  butchered  by  this  most  inhuman  judge.  Gloom 
and  sorrow  pervaded  every  soul,  and  their  prayer  to 
Heaven  was  to  soften  the  stony  and  relentless  heart 
of  him  in  whom  was  placed  the  power  to  dispose  as 
he  willed,  so  many  to  an  ignominious  death. 

The  amiable  divine  who  officiated  on  this  occa- 
sion, urged  upon  his  hearers  the  virtue  of  mercy, 
charging  those  who  refused  to  listen  to  its  dictates, 
that  a  day  of  reckoning  would  surely  come,  when 
they  who  showed  none,  for  their  obduracy,  would 
receive  none  in  return  from  the  final  Judge  of  all 
the  earth. 

Jeffrys  seemed  wretched  while  the  discourse  pro- 
ceeded ;  he  knit  his  brows  and  clenched  his  teeth ; 
then  grinned  his  horrible  and  terrific  grin.  When 
the  service  was  over,  which  was  evidently  a  great 
relief,  he  hurried  out  of  the  pew,  jumped  into  his 
carriage,  and,  giving  orders  to  his  coachman,  the 
horses  galloped  off  at  full  speed.  JefFrys,  like  Kirke, 
mingled  with  his  cruelty  an  inordinate  love  of  mo- 
ney ;  and  the  number  of  prisoners  who  were  to  be 
tried  by  him,  seemed  to  present  another  prospect  of 
reward  beside  the  possession  of  the  great  seal.  Thus, 
while  he  would  cause  the  most  horrifying  cruelties, 
in  revenge  for  their  disloyalty  to  their  sovereign,  to 
reach  the  king's  ears,  he  could  still,  in  a  private 
way,  through  the  medium  of  their  purse-strings,  be 

7* 


BRITISH     REBELLION. 

a  little  compassionate  to  those  who  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  have  anything  available. 

The  poorer  portion  of  the  rebels  were,  therefore, 
selected  as  the  first  victims,  and  death  promised  to 
hundreds  a  happy  release  from  their  sufferings. 

From  the  close  of  the  battle  many  had  lain  in 
loathsome  dungeons,  with  their  wounds  undressed ; 
vermin  had  bred  in  them,  and  rendered  their  ago- 
nies almost  intolerable.  The  hand  of  charity  and 
piety  had  relieved  some,  but  by  far  the  greater  part 
remained  unthought  of  and  uncared  for.  When, 
therefore,  they  were  conducted  from  their  prisons  to 
•the  court,  an  end  of  their  suffering  was  a  consoling 
reflection.  They  were,  for  the  most  part,  reduced  to 
mere  skeletons,  their  eyes  glaring  from  sunken  sock- 
ets, and  their  cheek-bones  almost  cutting  through 
their  skins. 

Then,  when  brought,  one  by  one,  before  their  fe- 
rocious judge,  trembling  with  weakness  and  sinking 
with  fear,  Jeffrys  would  commence  his  brow-beating 
and  harrowing  language,  conjuring  up  visions  of  the 
figure  they  were  so  soon  to  cut  as  they  hung  at  the 
cross-roads,  swinging  in  the  breeze,  and  their  irons 
yielding  sweet  music  to  the  merry  milk-maids  as  they 
passed  along ;  while  their  wives  and  children  would 
admire  the  pretty  picture  hung  up  there  for  them  to 
gaze  at.  Then  he  would  laugh,  joke,  and  shout,  from 
the  exhilaration  produced  by  liberal  potations  of 
brandy,  and  proceed  to  his  delightful  task. 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  130 

To  lighten  his  labors,  as  he  termed  them,  and 
lessen  time  as  much  as  possible,  he  told  the  prisoners 
that  the  surest  path  to  mercy  was  to  plead  guilty. 
And  the  poor  creatures  catching  at  the  idea,  as  a 
drowning  man  at  a  straw,  eagerly  obeyed  the  sug- 
gestion, and  were  rewarded  for  their  credulity  by 
their  immediate  condemnation ;  and  were  ordered  to 
be  hung  up  as  soon  as  the  utterance  of  the  law  per- 
mitted. Thus  two  hundred  and  ninety-two  were 
disposed  of  in  Dorsetshire,  and  the  face  of  that  beau- 
tiful country  was  rendered  horrible  by  sights  at 
which  the  heart  grew  sick. 

On  every  village  green,  where  the  sports  of  the 
happy  peasants  had  often  made  the  air  resound  with 
merriment,  a  gibbet,  with  its  victim  decaying,  exhi- 
bited its  fearful  spectacle  and  impregnated  the  at- 
mosphere with  its  loathsome  impurity.  Superstition 
added  to  the  horrors  of  the  scene,  and  tales  of  ghosts 
dancing  in  the  midnight,  when  the  moonlight  ren- 
dered visible  every  object  that  surrounded  the  peace- 
ful but  sorrowing  dwellings  of  the  rustics,  were  cir- 
culated and  listened  to  with  the  awful  solemnity  the 
mournful  state  of  the  times  so  readily  excited. 

At  every  place,  also,  where  two  roads  met,  a  re- 
bel was  suspended,  to  increase,  if  that  were  possible, 
the  terror  that  pervaded  all  ranks  and  grades  of  so- 
ciety. Scarcely  a  being  ventured  out  after  sunset, 
shapes  of  ghostly  horror,  of  every  form  and  color,  be- 
ing said  to  walk  at  large  in  high- ways  and  by-ways, 


U  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

and  in  lanes  and  avenues,  where  nature's  garniture 
of  leaves  and  flowers  decked  all  things  with  loveli- 
ness; and  the  calm  beauty  of  the  declining  year  shed 
a  halo,  as  it  were,  of  love  and  peace  on  every  thing 
around ;  and  were  believed  to  hold  their  court 
nightly  that  they  might  prepare  Jeffrys'  evil  spirit 
for  the  cruelties  of  the  morrow, 

Now  followed  the  consideration  of  bribes.  A 
committee  was  therefore  formed  to  negotiate  with 
the  riclier  rebels,  and  a  secret  understanding  givenr 
that  pardon,  even  in  their  extreme  case,  could  be  pur- 
chased. This  was  no  sooner  made  known  than  hope 
began  to  spring  up  in  many  a  forlorn  heart.  Many 
a  widow,  sorrowing  in  long  perspective,  rejoiced, 
even  though  at  the  prospect  of  losing  the  accumu- 
lations of  years  of  toil.  Many  a  youthful  pair,  com- 
mencing life  with  no  possession  but  health  and  love 
for  each  other,  had  worked  hard,  with  the  reward 
in  view  of  one  day  obtaining  a  portion  of  land  and 
a  cottage  which  they  might  call  their  own.  And  a 
home  where  clustering  olive  branches  crowned  their 
happy  and  contented  board  had  been  attained  by 
many  a  hardy  son  of  the  soil ;  together  with  little 
farms,  with  cows  for  the  supply  of  their  dairy,  and 
horses  for  the  plough  and  the  team.  Many  of  these 
possessions,  (leaving  their  once  comfortable  owners 
utterly  destitute,)  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  insa- 
tiate Jeffrys,  as  the  purchase  of  their  pardon  and  re- 
turn to  their  stripped,  yet  rejoicing  families. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  141 

There  was  one  case  which  was  considered  ex- 
tremely and  cruelly  brutal,  even  in  those  barbarous 
days ;  a  case  where  age  and  gray  hairs  should  have 
spared  the  lash,  at  least,  of  the  scorpion's  tongue. 
An  old  man  of  some  four  score  years,  reduced  to 
the  maintenance  of  parish-pay,  was  accused  of  wish- 
ing success  to  Monmouth's  cause,  being  a  Presby- 
terian, and  zealously  attached  to  the  Protestant  reli- 
gion. He  had  been  imprisoned  since  Jeffrys'  arrival, 
and  was  brought  into  court  tottering  beneath  the 
weight  of  years,  his  gray  hair  flowing  over  his  bent 
shoulders,  and  his  dimmed  sight  scarcely  allowing 
him  to  grope  his  way  without  being  guided  at  every 
step ;  this  poor  old  man  presented  to  every  humane 
heart  an  object  of  so  pitiable  a  nature,  that  few  could 
behold  him  unmoved.  As  he  entered,  Jeffrys  began 
with — "  O,  you  old  wretch !  a  Presbyterian,  aint 
you?  I  can  smell  one  of  your  tribe  forty  miles 
off.  O,  the  misery  you  have  brought  upon  the 
nation !  The  halter  is  very  nearly  round  thy  neck, 
thou.  barefaced  rascal — thou  impudent  old  rebel 
against  thy  sovereign.  I'll  teach  thee  to  be  more 
loyal  for  the  future.  I'll  prevent  thee  from  doing 
any  more  mischief."  Many  of  the  most  bitter  tories, 
pitying  the  condition  of  one  so  full  of  years  and  sor- 
rows, interposed  and  said :  "  Beside  his  age  and  in- 
firmities he  is  on  the  parish,  my  lord." 

"Then  the  parish  shall  be  quickly  relieved,"  he 
replied,  "  of  such  a  wicked  burden." 


142  BRITISH     RKBELLION. 

Tears  coursed  silently  down  the  prisoner's  fur- 
rowed cheeks,  but  he  answered  not  a  word ;  and  he 
left  the  court  with  the  sentence  of  death  upon  him, 
which  was  to  take  place  that  evening. 

Jeffrys  delighted  to  show  his  power  as  well  as 
his  fearlessness  of  public  opinion.  Many  of  the  sur- 
rounding noblemen  had  greatly  censured  his  atro- 
cious conduct  for  butchering,  robbing,  and  bullying 
their  poor  neighbors,  which  reaching  Jeffrys'  ears, 
caused  him  to  resolve  on  vengeance.  At  the  gate 
of  the  Earl  of  Stowell  he  ordered  the  corpse  of  a 
rebel  to  be  suspended;  at  the  church  door,  where 
another  was  in  the  habit  of  worshipping,  he  ordered 
one  to  be  hung,  and  to  remain.  This  dreadful  sight 
the  poor  villagers  were  compelled  to  witness  during 
their  devotions,  and  to  behold  their  acquaintance 
and  kinsman  deprived  even  of  the  decent  interment 
of  his  mouldering  frame.  The  nobleman  whom  it 
was  intended  to  punish,  refrained  from  his  usual 
attendance  at  the  sanctuary;  and  his  family,  not 
being  able  to  endure  the  revolting  sight  of  such  a 
desecration  of  public  and  private  feelings,  also  ab- 
sented themselves  from  their  attendance  on  the  in- 
struction of  their  spiritual  leader.  These  enormities, 
however,  still  proceeded,  and  as  Jeffrys  enriched 
himself  with  spoils,  the  poverty  of  the  peasants  in 
creased  to  a  frightful  extent.  The  confusion  that 
reigned  everywhere  rendered  employment  scarce,  and 
the  country  was  flooded  with  beggars ;  men,  women, 


BRITISH     REBELLION. 

and  children,  having  no  other  resource.  Their  once 
thriving,  and  in  many  instances  lovely  cottages, 
where  the  rose  had  been  taught  to  climb  around  the 
shaded  porch,  redolent  with  bloom  and  perfume, 
had  been  yielded  to  the  rapacity  of  this  cruel  man. 
But  life  was  precious ;  wives  and  children  possessed 
a  husband  and  a  father  whom  they  had  long  con- 
sidered lost,  and  heaven,  they  trusted,  would  give 
them  bread,  and  their  water  was  sure.  Whole  fami- 
lies, homeless,  penniless  wanderers,  were  compelled 
to  seek  from  their  richer  neighbors  the  only  means  of 
existence ;  and  mothers  and  babes  thus  exposed  to 
the  elements,  in  many  instances  met  with  untimely 
deaths.  And  if  any  of  the  pardoned  were  known  to 
have  secreted  anything,  or  to  have  obtained  gifts  of 
any  value,  it  was  scented  out,  and  agents  officially 
collected  a  basket  of  eggs,  a  piece  of  bacon,  or  a  bag 
of  corn  from  persons  in  the  last  stage  of  poverty  and 
starvation. 

Monmouth's  defeature  and  cruel  death,  when  in 
the  act  of  struggling  for  the  ascendancy  of  the  Pro- 
testant religion,  greatly  tended  to  deepen  the  re- 
ligious feelings  of  the  times.  A  sincere  and  fervent 
piety,  therefore,  prevailed  throughout  the  counties 
where  his  popularity  was  greatest.  Most  of  these 
were  dissenters,  and  held  their  meetings  for  prayer 
and  supplication  to  the  Almighty,  for  a  deliverance 
from  the  scourge  that  then  swept  his  people  from  the 
earth.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  feature  of  that  period, 


144  BRITISH     REBELLION, 

that  tempests  raged  with  exceeding  violence,  both  on 
sea  and  land,  doing  much  damage.  And  those  re- 
ligious bands,  when  they  met,  with  a  sad  satisfaction 
talked  over  those  disasters,  and  seemed  to  derive  a 
melancholy  comfort  from  the  thought,  that  God  had 
sent  forth  his  judgments  to  show  his  people  that  his 
just  indignation  was  kindled  against  those  evil  doers 
who  despoiled  the  earth  with  their  barbarity,  and 
spread  misery  and  gloom,  like  a  panoply,  over  a 
country  flowing  with  milk  and  honey ;  for  the  year 
had  been  exceedingly  abundant  in  crops  of  all  kinds. 
Jeffrys  knew  how  the  various  religious  sects 
regarded  his  doings ;  whenever,  therefore,  a  culprit 
of  more  than  ordinary  reputation  for  piety  was 
brought  before  him,  his  rage  knew  no  bounds.  And 
when  he  would  question  them  on  their  wickedness, 
in  rebelling  against  their  rightful  sovereign,  their 
replies  in  many  instances  were  firm  and  unflinching. 
They  would  acknowledge  no  compunction,  own  no 
error  in  what  they  had  done.  They  were  servants 
of  Christ,  and  had  fought  in  his  cause.  Even  on  the 
scaffold  they  refused  to  listen  to  the  exhortations  of 
the  clergymen  who  besought  them  to  express  their 
sorrow  and  repentance  for  what  they  had  done. 
With  hymns  and  praises  on  their  tongues,  they 
yielded  up  their  lives  to  Him  who,  they  doubted  not, 
would  arise  and  dispel  the  mists  of  ignorance  which 
blinded  the  wicked  hearts  and  minds  of  the  ene- 
mies of  their  Lord. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  145 

A  pious  officer,  who  had  belonged  to  the  Par- 
liamentary army  of  Cromwell,  whose  age  almost 
precluded  him  from  service,  had  joined  Monmouth, 
and  fought  in  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor.  He  was 
zealously  opposed  to  monarchy,  in  all  its  forms, 
owning  no  king  but  his  Creator.  Fearless  and  un- 
daunted he  stood  in  the  court  harranguing  Jeffrys 
for  his  cruelty,  for  putting  so  many  martyrs  to 
death,  describing  the  doom  of  such  in  the  theological 
phraseology  of  Cromwell's  time,  and  concluding  by 
saying,  he  was  in  his  Master's  hand,  who,  if  he  saw 
good  to  remove  him  to  his  presence,  through  his  in- 
strumentality, he  was  willing  to  go.  Jeffrys  fiercely 
replied:  Sirrah,  thou  hast  anticipated  the  reward 
of  thy  disloyalty.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged ; 
but  the  horses  being  frightened  by  some  means 
in  conveying  him  to  execution,  he  thought  and 
said  that  the  Lord  had  placed  an  angel  in  the 
way,  is  he  did  before  Balaam's  ass,  and  though 
invisible  to  those  who  accompanied  him,  was 
plainly  seen  by  the  poor  animals,  who  thus  refused 
to  proceed. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  scaffold  he  addressed 
the  assembled  multitude  in  the  language  of  his  fer- 
vent and  sincere  piety.  Said  he  was  going  to  join 
his  fellow-martyrs  before  the  throne  of  the  Redeemer. 
A  sacred  enthusiasm  lit  up  his  countenance,  and 
lifting  his  eyes  to  heaven,  cried  with  a  loud  voice 
to  the  Almighty  ruler  of  heaven  and  earth,  to 


146  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

avenge  his  cause,  and  scatter  his  enemies  like  chaff 
before  the  wind.  The  halter  being  placed  around 
his  neck,  he  was  soon  launched  into  that  world 
where  it  was  evident  his  best  affections  had  long 
been  garnered  up. 

The  chronicles  of  that  period  have  preserved  the 
sayings  and  writings  left  by  these  devoted  Chris- 
tians, and  they  were  besides  preserved  in  the  hearts 
and  memories  of  thousands,  as  the  mementos  of 
martyrs  to  their  faith;  attesting  by  their  blood  the 
power  of  that  religion  which  they  loved  and  cher- 
ished so  deeply,  with  every  degradation  and  suffer- 
ing which  mortality  could  endure  before  their  eyes 
— with  a  courage  that  no  human  torture  could  daunt 
or  destroy,  lessen  or  corrupt. 


CHAPTE.R    VII. 

But  all  these  barbarous  executions  caused  the 
more  exultation  to  Jeffrys.  He  triumphed  in  the 
lengthened  and  still  lengthening  list  of  his  victims ; 
and  boasted  the  number  he  had  hung,  over  every  re- 
curring midnight  and  besotted  revel.  The  rebels' 
religious  belief  and  support,  under  their  dreadful 
doom,  formed  a  fruitful  theme  of  merriment  around 
his  festive  board ;  and  the  misery  everywhere  visible 
in  the  surrounding  country  was  hiccupped  forth  by 
him  and  his  boon  companions  in  tones  and  shouts 
more  in  keeping  with  the  howls  of  a  company  of 
Bedlamites,  than  human  beings  still  in  the  possession 
and  enjoyment  of  reason.  The  sparkling  glass,  the 
ribald  song,  circulated  at  those  unhallowed  seasons, 
until  the  maddened  brain  reeled  beneath  its  burden, 
and,  like  hogs,  they  fell  beneath  the  tables,  and  lay 
stretched  and  dead  upon  the  floors,  till  the  fumes 
evaporated  through  their  drenched  pores,  and  reliev- 
ed the  density  of  an  accumulation  on  those  delicate 
fibres,  which,  without  such  an  outlet,  must  have  de- 
stroyed them  for  ever. 

The  number  hanged  and  burnt  during  the 
"bloody  assizes"  exceeded  three  hundred,  and  is 
without  a  parallel  in  any  case  of  a  like  nature  upon 


148  BRITISH      KEBELLION. 

record.  Although  in  previous  instances  of  a  rebel- 
lion being  put  down,  no  one  thought  of  ascribing 
clemency  to  the  crown ;  still  on  no  former  occasion 
was  a  judge  found  who  could  sink  every  attribute  of 
humanity  to  such  a  degree  as  Jeffrys  did.  Cruel  and 
avaricious  by  nature,  ambition  formed  yet  another 
strong  ingredient  in  a  character  that  required  no  spur 
to  the  indulgences  of  his  blood-thirsty  propensities. 

Every  refined  and  elevating  attribute  of  soul  he 
loved  to  crush  and  subdue,  without  regard  to  sex  or 
age.  A  most  painful  instance  of  this  nature  occurred 
at  the  close  of  the  Dorsetshire  trials.  A  young  gen- 
tleman, the  only  son  of  parents  who  ranked  high 
with  the  gentry  of  the  country,  had  been  brought  up 
and  educated  with  great  care  for  the  bar.  His  per- 
sonal attractions  were  great,  and  his  manners  were 
polished  and  elegant ;  he  also  possessed  a  goodness 
of  disposition  and  a  fame  for  acquirements  which 
caused  him  to  be  distinguished  far  above  most  others 
of  his  class.  Unfortunately  for  him,  he  became  one 
of  Monmouth's  partizans,  and  used  his  influence, 
wherever  he  could  command  it,  in  augmenting  the 
number  of  those  whom  he  trusted  one  day  would 
obtain  for  the  nation  a  Protestant  monarch. 

Previously  to  this  he  had  won  the  affections  of 
a  lovely  girl,  who  was  greatly  distinguished  for  her 
feminine  graces  and  accomplishments.  She  eagerly 
joined  in  the  enthusiasm  of  her  lover ;  and  their 
subsequent  meetings,  after  Monmouth's  proclama- 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  149 

tion  at  Lyme,  were  occupied  by  the  all-engrossing 
subject. 

Their  conversation  in  the  shadowed  grove,  or  be- 
side the  rippling  beach,  or  with  their  assembled 
friends,  amid  the  genial  delights  of  the  drawing-room, 
was  tempered  with  the  pleasures  in  perspective,  of 
a  change  of  sovereigns,  from  that  of  the  morose  and 
Popish  James,  to  the  idol  of  so  many  hearts,  the 
fascinating  and  amiable  Monmouth.  This  devoted 
pair  were  betrothed,  and  the  bridal  favors  ordered 
for  the  happy  occasion  which  was  to  unite  for  ever 
two  loving  and  congenial  spirits.  It  was  to  take 
place  the  day  after  Monmouth's  victory,  which  at 
this  period,  with  the  sanguine  hopes  and  expecta- 
tions of  youth,  they  assured  themselves,  was  near. 
The  sentiments  of  the  gallant  young  man  were  well 
known,  and  he  became  a  mark  for  both  civil  and 
military  tories.  When,  therefore,  the  battle  of  Sedge- 
moor  decided  in  favor  of  Jame"s,  he  was  suddenly 
laid  hold  of  and  lodged  in  prison,  where,  to  the  un- 
speakable anguish  of  his  fond  parents,  and  her  to 
whom  he  was  dearer  than  life,  he  languished  till 
Jeffrys  had  almost  emptied  the  jails  and  prisons,  and 
was  then  brought  out  to  take  his  trial.  Brutal  as  he 
had  always  been,  it  seemed  he  could  excel  even  him- 
self on  this  occasion.  The  young  man's  affianced 
bride,  in  her  deep  devotion,  determined  to  be  present 
at  his  trial ;  but  when  she  heard  the  coarse  and  bul- 
lying language  of  Jeffrys  addressed  to  one  whose 


150  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

education  and  refinement  of  character  had  won  for 
him  the  love  and  admiration  of  her  young  and  dot- 
ing heart,  her  agony  so  completely  overcame  her 
that  she  fainted,  and  was  borne  senseless  from  the 
court. 

The  prisoner  was  not  wealthy,  and  a  small  bribe 
was  not  enough,  in  a  case  like  his,  to  purchase  a  par- 
don ;  and  besides,  the  position  of  the  parties  would 
have  entailed  an  odium  on  Jeffrys,  of  so  public  a  na- 
ture, that  policy,  even  in  one  so  shameless,  forbade 
his  resorting  to  it.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  exe- 
cuted the  next  day. 

When  this  was  known  to  the  parents  and  the  un- 
fortunate girl,  it  is  impossible  to  convey  any  idea  of 
their  wretchedness  and  extreme  misery.  In  her  wild 
enthusiasm,  she  determined  to  throw  herself  at  the 
feet  of  Jeffrys  and  beseech  her  lover's  life,  believ- 
ing no  heart  could  be  steeled  against  grief  like  hers. 
Early  on  the  following  morning,  therefore,  in  all  the 
charms  of  beauty,  in  the^  bloom  and  loveliness  of 
youth,  she  appeared  before  the  judge,  in  whose  hands 
lay  the  issues  of  the  fate  of  him,  around  whom  every 
hope  of  happiness  in  this  world  was  entwined. 

As  she  fell  at  Jeffrys'  feet,  her  agony  melted 
every  heart  present  but  his,  and  tears  flowed  copious- 
ly; but  he  indulged  in  a  fiendish  laugh,  and,  adding 
insult  to  cruelty,  told  her  to  bind  her  flowing  tresses 
and  go  and  see  the  gallows  erecting,  for  that  her  lover 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  151 

would  be  strung  up  within  the  hour;  concluding 
with  a  joke  so  coarse,  that  the  blood  mounted  to  her 
cheeks,  but  again  fell  back  with  such  violence  on 
the  sinking  heart  so  soon  to  be  petrified  in  the  em- 
brace of  death,  that  her  blanched  cheeks,  as  she 
turned  her  saddened  gaze  on  the  inhuman  monster, 
seemed  more  like  a  piece  of  Parian  marble  than  a 
living  being ;  her  dark  and  heavy  eyelashes  in  such 
strong  contrast  to  its  snowy  whiteness,  and  her  lux- 
uriant hair  imparting  the  last  touch  of  extreme 
loveliness  to  her  shrinking  and  trembling  form. 

Tottering  forth  from  his  dreadful  presence,  she 
determined  to  witness  the  final  scene  ;  and,  looking 
round  as  she  reached  the  door,  she  inquired  the  spot 
of  one  of  the  bystanders.  The  wildness  of  her  tones, 
and  the  bewilderment  of  her  eyes,  conveyed  an  idea 
that  reason  was  fast  receding  from  her  throne ;  and 
the  wind  being  high,  as  she  flew  towards  the  place  of 
execution,  her  hair  streaming  in  the  breeze,  and  her 
robe  taking  the  current  of  air,  she  looked,  in  truth, 
like  a  frightened  maniac  fleeing  from  her  pursuers. 

Many  persons  had  already  congregated  around 
the  suspended  gibbet;  and  with  breathless  agony 
she  watched  the  preparation  making  for  her  no- 
ble-hearted lover.  At  length  the  hammering  ceased, 
and  a  dreadful  moment  intervened.  Then  came  forth 
the  guards  and  took  their  stand,  and  then  followed 
the  doomed  man.  She  strained  her  eyes  to  catch  a 


152  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

*  *    * 

last  look.  Oh,  how  changed  was  the  form  from  what 
it  was  when  she  beheld  him  last  1  So  pale,  so  woe- 
begone, so  attenuated !  She  heard  him  breathe  forth 
the  pious  resignation  of  his  soul  into  his  Maker's 
hands,  with  an  upraised  and  listening  look.  She  saw 
the  halter  placed  round  his  neck,  the  drop  fall,  the 
last  struggle  ;  and  then,  closing  her  eyes,  without  a 
word  or  movement  of  a  muscle,  she  sank  into  the 
arms  of  William  Penn,  who  stood  by  her,  and  ex- 
pired immediately, — ossification  of  the  heart  having 
taken  place. 

Penn  seems  to  have  had  an  extraordinary  pen- 
chant for  witnessing  executions ;  and  in  this  instance 
it  was  fortunate.  He  conveyed  the  poor  girl  to  her 
parents,  whose  grief  almost  exceeded  that  of  the 
Psalmist,  for  all  their  earthly  hopes  had  been  cen- 
tred in  this  their  only  child ;  and  in  the  bitterness 
of  their  sorrow  they  ^exclaimed,  over  and  over  again, 
as  they  gazed  on  the  lovely  form  now  resting  so 
calmly  and  quietly  in  death :  "  Oh,  we  cannot,  can- 
not live,  now  our  Mary  is  gone  !  Oh,  what  she  has 
suffered !  Oh,  what  a  fate  was  hers  !  Oh,  why  did  we 
not  follow  her ;  why  did  we  let  her  go  out  of  our 
sight !  Oh,  let  us  die  with  her  !  Oh,  to  live  is  im- 
possible !" 

The  survivors,  during  these  dreadful  times,  were 
often  indeed  more  objects  of  compassion  than  the 
victims  themselves;  for  the  tragedy  they  outlived 
rested  on  their  lacerated  memories  while  life  re- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  153 

*   *          *' 

mained.  And  though,  time,  the  great  healer,  softened 
the  poignancy  of  the  stroke,  a  portion  of  its  bitter- 
ness haunted  them  ever  after,  and  cast  a  shadow 
over  every  bright  and  buoyant  hope  that  sought  to 
lighten  their  earthly  paths. 

Mary  Argrave  was  borne  to  her  grave  in  the 
churchyard  of  Lyme,  three  days  after  her  death,  by 
eight  young  ladies  dressed  in  white.  The  coffin  was 
also  white,  indicative  of  her  youth  and  virgin  inno- 
cence ;  and  on  its  lid  fair  hands  had  placed  clusters 
of  white  rosebuds.  Thousands  attended  her  funeral, 
in  token  of  their  love  and  admiration  for  one  whose 
life  had  been  passed  in  the  endearing  exercise  of 
every  feminine  virtue. 

The  cypress  waves  its  branches  in  consecrated 
ground  over  her  silent  tomb,  weeping  love  followed 
her  to  her  last  resting  place,  and  heavenly  hopes 
were  offered  by  God's  messenger  to  the  bereaved ; 
but  Christopher  Battiscombe,  her  unfortunate  lover, 
was  taken  from  the  gallows  and  buried  at  the  first 
cross-road  leading  from  Lyme.  Sorrow  has  many 
forms ;  but  his  weeping  friends'  grief  far  exceeded 
that  of  Mary  Argrave's,  for  it  seemed  to  them  with- 
out a  parallel.  A  Christian  burial  in  sacred  ground 
would  have  been  a  solace,  but  the  grave  of  a  mur- 
derer was  too  harrowing  to  natures  such  as  theirs. 
A  few  short  months  consigned,  first  his  mother,  and 
then  his  father,  to  the  church-yard  where  Mary  Ar- 
grave was  borne ;  and,  like  her,  they  were  attended 


154  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

by  thousands,  who,  beholding  their  fate,  wept  at  the 
infatuation  of  the  multitude  who  so  eagerly  joined 
the  standard  of  the  unfortunate  Monmouth ;  and, 
contrasting  the  enthusiasm  connected  with  his  land- 
ing, with  its  tragical  and  eventful  close  and  conse- 
quences, sorrowed  •  over  the  short-sightedness  of  hu- 
man vision,  which  permitted  experience  to  be  the 
only  teacher  and  expounder  of  the  mysterious  and 
hidden  future.  Could  the  result  have  been  foreseen, 
how  much  suffering  would  have  been  prevented. 
But  the  limit  had  not  yet  been  set.  The  tyrant  still 
occupied  his  throne  of  power,  beneath  which  no 
footstool  of  mercy  rested,  nor  no  persuasive  angel 
voice  whispered,  "  stay  thy  murderous  purpose,  or 
revoke  thy  stern  decree. 

i  The  Dorsetshire  trials  being  ended,  Jeffrys  pro- 
ceeded to  Exeter,  but  there  were  few  offenders  there, 
Monmouth's  popularity  not  being  very  great  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  But  he  entered  on  his  work  in 
the  same  spirit  as  before,  unsoftened  in  ferocity,  and 
unchecked  by  the  whisperings  or  the  reproaches  of 
conscience.  The  slightest  offences  were,  therefore, 
still  punished  with  the  utmost  rigor,  without  regard 
to  sex  or  age. 

One  poor  woman  who  had  been  overheard  to  ut- 
ter some  rebukeful  remarks  on  the  cruelty  of  the 
judge  and  the  papacy  of  the  king,  was  brought  be- 
fore Jeffrys  with  a  charge  of  high  treason.  She 
declared  her  innocence  in  the  most  piteous  terms, 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  155 

her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  her  hands  lifted  up  in 
supplication  of  mercy,  and  her  voice  broken  by  sobs. 
"  Ah,  you  jade,"  he  replied,  "  this  is  the  way  you 
traduce  your  betters,  is  it  ?  You  wanted  a  new  king, 
eh  ?  you  were  tired  of  old  friends  and  wanted  new," 
he  continued,  banteringly  :  "  For  fear  you  should 
forget  them  altogether,  you  shall  have  a  constant 
remembrance.  You  shall  be  whipped  through  every 
market  town  in  the  county,  my  lady  ;  you  shall  tra- 
vel, you  shall,"  grinning  as  he  spoke,  to  see  her 
writhing  agony  as  she  heard  him  utter  this  cruel, 
this  barbarous  sentence. 

"  Oh,  my  lord,"  ^she  cried,  falling  on  her  knees ; 
"  oh,  my  lord,  in  pity  to  my  children,  spare  their 
poor,  poor  mother  from  such  a  dreadful  doom.  Oh, 
my  lord,  let  me  be  hanged, — let  me  be  burnt — any 
thing  but  this." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  You  would  choose,  would  ye  ? 
Remove  the  woman,"  he  vociferated,  in  a  loud  and 
surly  voice.  She  was  accordingly  borne  from  the 
court-room  to  the  jail,  with  the  thoughts  of  this 
dreadful  punishment  before  her,  which  must  take 
many  months  in  its  execution.  A  scourging,  to  take 
place  once  a  week,  would  render  it  full  half  a  year  at 
least. 

She  was  the  wife  of  a  worthy  peasant  who  had 
fought  at  Sedgemoor,  in  Monmouth's  ranks.  He  had 
been  hung,  and  hence  the  bitterness  of  her  feelings 
towards  the  king  and  Jeffrys,  which  she  had  ex- 


156  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

pressed,  little  supposing  her  words  would  be  carried 
and  brought  in  evidence  against  her ;  and  that  she 
would  be  torn  from  her  five  small  children,  who  de- 
pended solely  on  the  labor  of  her  hands  for  their 
daily  bread — cast  into  prison,  and  sentenced  to  a 
punishment  which  covered  her  face  with  shame  and 
harrowed  her  soul  with  agonizing  torture,  at  the  bare 
thought  of  the  lash.  Her  children,  meanwhile,  what 
would  become  of  them  ?  Poor  things,  they  were  ta- 
ken to  the  poor-house,  till  this  cruel  doom  should  be 
fulfilled,  to  experience  the  tender  mercies  of  a  tory 
work-house  governor,  who  hated  the  rebels,  because 
they  were  Protestants,  and  had  been  defeated.  In 
his  province  he  was  as  great  a  tyrant  as  Jeffrys,  and 
bullied  and  browbeat,  wherever  his  power  extended, 
with  the  most  relentless  cruelty. 

But  misery  of  all  kinds  was  the  order  of  the  day, 
and  people  were  accustomed  to  tales  of  every  descrip- 
tion of  horror  and  terror.  Every  newspaper  was  filled 
from  day  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  with  the  most 
frightful  details  of  public  and  private  suffering ;  so 
that  nothing  surprised,  nothing  startled,  as  Jeffrys 
was  considered  capable  of  every  enormity  conceiv- 
able by  either  men,  or  devils. 

Two  brothers'  fate,  however,  seemed  beyond  even 
this  order  of  things.  They  were  sons  of  an  opulent 
merchant  in  London,  young,  handsome,  intelligent, 
and  highly  connected.  They  had  not  joined  Mon- 
mouth's  army,  but  were  known  to  be  dissenters,  and 

m 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  157 

favorable  to  his  cause.  Their  grandfather,  named 
Giffin,  in  particular,  had  expressed  sentiments  ex- 
tremely hostile  to  the  government,  and^was  a  Baptist. 
Dissenting  offenders  always  made  Jeffrys  furious. 
These  young  men  were]called  Benjamin  and  William 
Hewling,  one  nineteen,  the  other  twenty-one  years 
old — their  age  forming  to  the  general  view  strong 
cause  for  the  exercise  of  lenity  and  mercy.  But  not 
to  Jeffrys.  "When  William  was  brought  into  court, 
his  appearance  commanded  the  admiration  of  every 
beholder;  and  the  conclusion  was,  that  the  air  of  up- 
rightness which  rested  so  distinctly  on  his  youthful 
and  ingenuous  countenance,  would  plead  so  elo- 
quently in  his  behalf,  that  he  could  not  be  convicted. 
In  this  idea,  however,  they  were  greatly  mistaken ; 
for,  with  his  characteristic  ferocity,  he  commenced 
with,  "Ah,  thy  grandfather  ought  to  have  been 
hung  long  ago;  and  he  will  yet.  He'll  share  thy 
doom ;  such  wickedness  cannot  go  for  ever  unpun- 
ished, the  rascally  old  villain.  O,  these  dissenters, 
they  ought,  all  of  them,  to  be  burned  in  one  heap.  I 
want  to  consume  the  whole  pack." 

The  poor  youth  answered  not  a  word.  He  had, 
with  a  fortitude  surprising  to  one  of  his  years,  pre- 
pared himself  for  the  worst,  from  knowing  Jeffrys* 
character,  and  had  resigned  himself  to  the  fate  he 
felt  certain  would  be  his.  In  all  the  buoyancy  of 
youthful  happiness,  he  saw  that  death  was  his  inevi- 
table doom,  and  calmly  and  meekly  awaited  the  sen- 


158  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

tence.  There  was  scarcely  a  dry  eye  in  all  the  vast 
assembled  crowd.  Jeffrys  ordered  that  he  should  be 
hung  next  day.  He  heard  it  without  any  visible 
change  ;  but  the  wailing  and  sobbing  around  him,  as 
he  was  reconducted  to  the  prison,  visibly  affected 
him.  On  the  following  morning  he  was  executed, 
preserving  to  the  last  that  gentle  meekness  of  de- 
meanor which  melted  the  hardest  heart."  Even  those 
veterans,  to  whom  such  sights  had  become  familiar, 
were  penetrated  with  grief  at  feeing  such  heroism 
and  fortitude  in  one  so  young  ;  and,  could  their  feel- 
ings have  spoken  and  acted,  Jeffrys  would  have  been 
torn  to  pieces. 

Benjamin  expected  the  same  fate,  though  many 
encouraged  hopes  that"  he  would  be  pardoned.  The 
offence  had  been  so  slight,  that  surely  one  victim 
from  a  family  so  highly  esteemed  and  respected 
would  be  enough.  Jeffrys  even  pretended  to  feel 
merciful ;  and  people  began  to  augur  a  change  in 
that  adamantine  heart.  But  those  who  thought  thus 
were  greatly  at  fault.  His  avarice  was  the  medium 
whence  flowed  this  little  stream  of  apparent  lenity. 
A  rich  kinsman,  from  whom  he  had  large  expecta- 
tions, interceded  for  the  youth.  So  the  trial  was 
suspended  until  a  petition  for  his  life  should  be  pre- 
sented to  the  king. 

This,  Hewling's  sister  undertook  to  do  in  person, 
a  young  and  beautiful  girl  of  seventeen.  Several  of 
James'  most  devoted  courtiers  aided  her  in  her  en- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  159 

deavor ;  and  Churchill  in  particular,  obtainedSan  au- 
dience, cautioning  her,  ere  she  entered  the  royal  pre- 
sence, against  expecting  too  much.  They  stood  in 
the  antechamber,  awaiting  the  king's  entrance,  and 
the  elegance  and  loveliness  of  the  fair  petitioner 
greatly  impressed  him,  "  But  James'  heart,  my  dear 
lady,"  he  observed,  in  answer  to  her  sanguine  hopes 
that  her  brother  would  be  pardoned,  "  is  as  hard  as 
this  marble,"  laying  his  hand  on  the  mantlepiece  near 
which  he  stood.  "  So  expect  nothing,  I  pray  you." 

The  sister's  love,  however,  rose  above  her  fears, 
and  on  entering  the  king's  presence  she  threw  her- 
self at  his  feet,  and  in  tones  that  would  have  melted 
the  hardest  heart,  with  her  lovely  face  bathed  in  tears, 
she  besought  pardon  for  her  brother.  Stating  his 
tender  years  and  his  innocence  of  intention  towards 
his  sovereign.  i 

James  heard  her  with  the  cruel  stoicism  for 
which  he  was  remarkable  ;  and  refused  her  petition 
without  one  softening  palliative  for  the  rejection  of 
her  suit.  "  He  is  a  rebel,  and  must  suffer  the  penal- 
ty due  to  such  offenders ;"  he  replied  coolly. 

The  poor  girl  left  his  inexorable  presence  more 
dead  than  alive,  and  in  a  few  days  her  beloved  bro- 
ther shared  the  fate  of  William,  dying,  like  him,  with 
a  meekness  and  submission  which  has  been  embalm- 
ed in  the  hearts  of  thousands  to  the  honor  of  that  re- 
ligion, whose  supporting  power  deprived,  in  this 


160  BRITISH       REBELLION. 

cruel  extremity,  not  only  death  of  its  sting,  but 
smoothed  their  passage  to  an  ignominious  grave. 

No  place  manifested  greater  enthusiasm  at  Mon- 
mouth's  reception  than  Taunton.  Old  and  young 
echoed  but  one  wish.  The  spirit  of  Cromwell  was 
revived  by  his  presence,  and  the  most  fervent  devo- 
tion was  felt  for  a  cause  that  all  so  deeply  loved.  As 
it  will  be  remembered,  several  young  ladies  formed 
a  procession,  in  order  to  present  him  with  a  standard 
and  a  Bible.  They  were  young  school-girls,  and  were 
headed  by  their  school-mistress,  who  carried  the  sa- 
cred volume  at  the  head  of  her  ranks,  and  with  her 
own  hands  gave  it  to  Monmouth  with  the  banner. 
His  graceful  acknowledgment  of  the  gift  was  trea- 
sured with  delight  in  the  hearts  and  memories  of 
these  amiable  girls,  and  they  trusted  in  the  fulness  of 
their  souls  that  they  would  soon  own  as  their  sove- 
reign, and  the  nation  a  king,  a  man  whom  the  people 
delighted  to  honor.  Poor  girls  !  a  sad  fate  awaited 
this  simple  expression  of  their  regard.  They  were 
ferreted  out  by  the  minions  of  power,  most  of  them 
without  one  compassionate  feeling  for  their  age  and 
sex,  and  cast  into  prisons,  where  they  languished  till 
Jeffrys  summoned  them  before  him.  O,  it  was  a  pi- 
teous sight  to  behold  those  young  ladies,  daughters, 
many  of  them,  of  wealth  and  station ;  educated  and 
refined  by  the  highest  cultivation ;  the  ornaments  of 
their  homes  and  the  delight  of  doting  parents,  brought 
before  the  dreaded  monster,  and  there  in  crowded 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 

courts  addressed  in  the  coarse  and  brutal  language 
so  natural  to  his  depraved  tongue,  and  so  delightful 
to  a  heart  deadened  and  hardened  to  every  humane 
and  tender  emotion.  One  of  them  had  died  ere  the 
trial  could  take  place,  having  been  thrown  into  a  jail 
where  a  fever  was  raging  in  its  worst  and  most  viru- 
lent state.  Her  constitution  had  been  always  deli- 
cate, and  with  the  cruel  doom  of  death  before  his 
daughter,  her  father  had  to  see  his  child  dragged  like 
a  felon  to  the  cell,  to  take  an  infection  from  which 
none  ever  escaped.  The  nature  of  a  parents  feelings 
under  circumstances  like  these  can  be  more  easily 
conceived  than  described.  Willingly  would  he  have 
gone  in  her  stead ;  but,  alas,  he  was  helpless  in  his 
sore  and  bitter  agony.  And,  clasping  her  in  a  long 
last  embrace,  she  entered  what  proved  her  last  home 
on  earth,  took  the  infection  and  died  in  three  days. 

The  intensity  of  the  father's  grief,  however,  had 
one  mitigating  reflection ;  she  was  saved  the  doom 
of  the  gallows,  which  others  had  suffered  so  heroi- 
cally and  so  meekly.  But  the  misery  occasioned  by 
the  thought  that  no  kindred  hand  slaked  the  burning 
thirst,  attendant  on  the  disease,  haunted  him  for 
years  like  a  shadow,  and  poisoned  by  its  remem- 
brance every  happy  hour  of  his  remaining  existence. 

Another  of  the  victims,  a  high  spirited,  noble- 
hearted  girl,  determined  when  she  was  brought  into 
court  to  go  up  to  Jeffrys  and  plead  for  her  life,  and 

to  this  end  framed  a  touching  address  to  move  the 

8* 


162  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

pity  of  one  who  knew  nothing  of  its  gentle  influences. 
Her  words  fell  like  music  on  the  ears  of  all  present, 
and  hope  fired  many  an  anxious  breast.  But  like 
the  early  dew  and  the  morning  cloud,  it  soon  passed 
away,  leaving  only  gloom  and  bitterness  in  its  stead ; 
for  his  only  answer  was  addressed  to  the  jailor  an- 
grily, desiring  him  to  take  her  away.  Her  upraised 
hopeful  countenance  fell,  and  was  in  a  moment  suf- 
fused with  tears,  in  which  all  present  joined.  The 
next  morning  she  was  executed,  leaving  parents  and 
sisters  to  mourn  her  hard  and  untimely  fate. 

Some  escaped  punishment  on  the  ground  of  ex- 
treme youth,  many  of  them  being  at  the  time  under 
ten  years  of  age,  but  these  were  reserved  and  marked 
for  future  operations ;  for  even  royalty  was  plotting 
for  spoils  in  these  awful  times,  and  when  enormities 
of  one  kind  ceased,  others  equally  heinous  com- 
menced, and  gave  to  the  annals  of  this  period  a 
blackness  unequalled  by  those  of  any  passed,  and, 
'tis  to  be  hoped,  future  age. 

Jeffrys  had  still  work,  as  he  called  it,  to  do  ;  but 
hardened  as  his  nature  was,  he  wished  it  over.  Not 
for  any  pangs  of  conscience  he  experienced,  or  any 
painful  sensations  on  the  score  of  humanity.  On 
the  contrary,  he  never  felt  better  or  happier,  or  en- 
tered with  more  zest  into  the  festivities  of  the  social 
or  convivial  hour.  Balls  and  parties  shared  his  pre- 
sence, where  he  strutted  in  all  the  pride  and  pomp 
of  a  favorite  of  his  sovereign ;  and  received  the  smiles 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  163 

and  homage  of  youth  and  beauty,  though  regarded 
in  their  hearts,  and  associated  in  their  minds,  as  a 
monster,  like  their  childhood's  horror — Bluebeard. 

But  the  exhilarating  dance  proceeded  notwith- 
standing, and  the  sparkling  glass  succeeded  the  day's 
miseries,  and  the  finale  revel  dissipated  all  remem- 
brance or  care  of  the  past,  while  the  brilliant  future 
he  looked  forward  to,  was  a  possession  which  made 
his  heart  dilate  with  delight.  What  to  such  a  man 
were  the  groans  and  tears  of  the  heartbroken  homes 
and  hearthstones  of  the  srurounding  country  ?  He 
heard  them  not,  nor  cared  if  he  did.  Gain  was  the 
principle  which  alone  actuated  him,  and  he  had  a 
victim  in  view,  from  whom  he  determined  to  wring 
something  worth  while. 

A  most  beautiful  country  seat  stood  a  few  miles 
from  Exeter,  surrounded  by  an  extensive  and  valu- 
able estate.  This  was  owned  by  a  gentleman  to 
whom  it  had  descended  from  his  father,  a  wealthy 
member  of  the  bar,  whose  name  was  Prideaux.  He 
was  known  to  entertain  whig  principles,  but  no  other 
complaint  could  be  lodged  against  him,  as  he  had 
not  joined  Monmouth,  or  made  himself  in  any  way 
conspicuous  as  his  partizan.  But  Jeffrys,  who  had 
already  made  a  fortune  by  his  ample  trading  in  par- 
dons, thought  this  a  fine  victim  to  pounce  upon.  He 
accordingly  had  him  arrested  for  high  treason,  and 
thrown  into  prison.  Prideaux  had  no  redress  farther 
than  the  employment  of  counsel  to  prove  his  inno- 


164  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

cence  of  the  charge  when  his  trial  should  take  place. 
Jeffrys  was  also  on  the  alert  against  that  time,  as 
nothing  of  a  definite  nature  could  be  found  against 
him  so  far.  Bribery  was  therefore  put  in  action,  and 
evidence  extorted  from  men  as  the  purchase  of  their 
lives  when  the  halter  was  nearly  around  their  necks. 
In  such  extremities,  unhappily,  persons  can  be  found 
for  such  a  purpose  too  often.  Allegations  were 
therefore  made  against  this  unoffending  gentleman 
of  the  falsest  kind,  and  witnesses  were  ready  to  be 
present  at  the  day  of  trial,  to  prove  all  that  Jeffrys 
required.  All  that  the  prisoner's  counsel  averred, 
therefore,  availed  nothing,  and  no  alternative  re- 
mained but  to  offer  the  judge  a  sum  of  money  to  ob- 
tain Prideaux's  liberation. 

He  languished  many  tedious  months  in  confine- 
ment, unwilling  to  make  the  sacrifice  on  which  his 
liberation  was  offered,  the  extortion  being  so  shame- 
ful that  he  felt  perfectly  outraged  by  the  proposition. 
But  fifteen  thousand  pounds  was  just  the  sum  neces- 
sary to  purchase  an  estate  Jeffrys  had  set  his  heart 
upon,  and  Prideaux  being  a  wealthy  man,  he  deter- 
mined V)n  making  him  pay  it.  And  at  length,  worn 
out  in  mind  and  body  from  his  close  incarceration 
for  so  many  months,  the  friends  of  the  prisoner  per- 
suaded him  to  yield,  and  complying  reluctantly  with 
their  wishes,  he  gave  a  check  for  the  amount,  and 
once  more  enjoyed  the  privileges  of  life  in  the  bosom 
of  his  happy  family,  who  thought  the  purchase 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  165 

cheap,  as  with  the  fears  so  naturally  engendered  by 
the  times  in  which  they  lived,  their  despair  rose  far 
above  their  hopes.  Jeffrys  rubbed  his  hands  with 
glee  at  this  triumph  of  his  manoeuvring,  and  bought 
the  estate  with  the  money  so  unjustly  and  so 
wickedly  obtained.  Its  price  was  that  of  innocent 
blood,  and  it  was  named  accordingly  by  the  people, 
Aceldama,  a  living  record  of  his  unhallowed  doings. 
During  a  period  so  hostile  to  mental  quiet,  it  is 
scarcely  conceivable  that  literary  pursuits  could  have 
found  any  one  sufficiently  abstracted  to  enjoy  its 
calm  and  gentle  pleasures.  But  intensity  of  feeling, 
with  persons  of  a  poetic  temperament,  often  finds  its 
best  interpreter  in  song,  and  in  the  impassioned 
strain  of  verse,  an  outlet  for  high-wrought  sensi- 
bilities, otherwise  painfully  oppressive  to  the  over- 
burdened soul.  A  young  man  by  the  name  of  Tut- 
chin  was  one  of  this  class;  and  in  gentle,  poetic 
effusions,  expressed  the  depression  that  characterized 
the  once  happy  and  blooming  loveliness  which  sur- 
rounded the  peaceful  dwellers  of  this  smiling 
country.  He  was  known  as  the  "  Poet,"  and  much 
beloved  for  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition  and  the 
amiability  of  his  manners.  A  Protestant,  and  much 
attached  to  his  religion,  he  had  in  his  heart  deeply 
espoused  the  cause  of  Monmouth,  and  watched  with 
eager  interest  his  fluctuations  betwixt  hope  and  fear, 
till  the  fatal  battle  of  Sedgemoor  exterminated  all 
chance  of  seeing  him  obtain  the  crown,  and  Catholi- 


166  BRITISH     RIBBLLION. 

cism  routed  from  its  throne  of  power.  With  all  this 
devotion  of  feeling,  however,  he  had  abstained  from 
every  act  prejudicial  to  the  government,  and  con- 
tented himself  with  wishing  success  to  the  enthusias- 
tic rebels,  whose  manly  daring  was  the  theme  of 
many  an  outpouring  of  his  spirit,  in  poetic  strains, 
mirroring  the  state  of  his  mind  in  so  palpable  a 
manner  as  left  no  doubt  of  his  sentiments,  and 
entirely  set  aside  the  shield  of  neutrality,  beneath 
which  he  fancied  himself  hid. 

Jeffrys  had  often  noticed  these  effusions,  but  their 
being  anonymous  had  shielded  the' youthful  author 
for  a  long  time  from  the  doom  to  which  he  had  been 
condemned.  A  watch  was  set  to  discover  the  re- 
bellious writer,  and  a  price  put  upon  his  apprehen- 
sion, which  soon  led  to  his  capture. 

He  was  quite  a  youth,  the  only  son  of  a  widow, 
who  delighted  in  her  gentle  boy,  and  proudly  be- 
held the  talents  he  possessed  and  the  appreciation 
they  obtained  throughout  the  country.  He  was 
also  her  sole  support,  through  a  little  property  he 
possessed,  and  brought  to  his  aged  parent's  hearth 
those  joys  of  heart  and  soul  which  strewed  her  path- 
way to  the  grave  with  the  roses  of  happiness  and 
hope.  But  the  shadow  of  evil  hovered  over  their 
peaceful  though  humble  dwelling,  and  the  wailings 
of  despair  were  soon  to  follow  the  placid  tenor  of 
their  uneventful  but  hitherto  contented  lives. 

The  spies  employed  to  find  out  this  innocent 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  167 

offender  were  but  too  successful  in  their  endeavors. 
They  traced  him  from  the  office  of  publication  to 
the  cottage  of  his  mother,  where  innocently  em- 
ployed in  working  in  his  garden,  his  fell  pursuers 
pounced  upon  their  prey,  and  bore  him  to  prison  on 
the  charge  of  high  treason. 

Mrs.  Tutchin  could  not  be  persuaded  that  aught 
could  be  found  against  her  son,  and  therefore  con- 
soled herself  with  the  vain  hope  that  he  would  soon 
be  set  at  liberty.  "  For,"  reasoned  the  old  lady,  "  he 
never  joined  with  the  rebels,  though  he  loved  the 
good  Duke  of  Monmouth  so  well ;  and  surely,  for 
writing  a  few  harmless  verses,  they  could  do  nothing 
against  him.  No,  no,  that  aint  actionable,  I  know. 
With  such  reasoning  the  poor  woman  fed  her  hopes 
for  her  son's  liberation,  but,  like  the  bubbles  on  the 
ocean,  or  records  traced  on  sand,  they  were  to  pass 
away,  leaving  only  a  wreck,  a  desolation  behind. 

Tatchin  hoped  too,  "  For,"  thought  he,  "  I  am 
not  rich  like  Prideaux;  and  my  confinement  cannot 
eventuate  in  a  ransom,  for  I  have  no  possessions  to 
form  an  inducement  for  my  incarceration.  My  being 
also  the  only  support  of  my  dear  old  mother  will, 
even  with  such  a  monster  as  Jeffrys,  plead  for  my 
liberation."  Poor  youth !  he  did  not  know  that  any 
additional  victim  increased  the  favor  of  James 
towards  his  faithful  servant,  and  that  to  substantiate 
even  imaginary  offences,  was  considered  a  triumph 
of  skill  and  dexterity,  and  lent  new  glories  to  his 


16S 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


heartless  proceedings  with  every  added  name  to  the 
already  lengthened  list  of  executions  and  enormities. 

When  he  was  brought  into  court  to  take  his  trial, 
Jeffrys,  as  usual,  commenced  his  browbeating. 

Tutchin  attempted  to  make  his  defence  by  stating 
his  innocence  of  any  thing  offensive  to  the  govern- 
ment or  the  king. 

"  Thou  art  an  arrant  knave,"  replied  Jeffrys,  "  thy 
seditious  and  scurrilous  verses  are  floating  all  over 
the  country,  and  have  incited  many  a  villain  to  take 
up  arms  against  their  sovereign.  Thy  crime  is  great, 
and  I'll  take  good  care  that  thy  versemaking  shall 
have  an  end."  He  then  sentenced  him  to  seven  years 
imprisonment,  and  during  that  period  to  be  flogged 
through  every  market  town  in  Dorsetshire  every 
year. 

When  he  concluded  every  woman  in  the  galleries 
burst  into  tears,  crying  aloud  in  the  anguish  of  their 
hearts,  for  the  youthful  poet  was  much  beloved.  The 
clerk  of  the  arraigns  was  unable  to  forbear,  he  stood 
up,  and  addressing  Jeffrys,  reminded  him  that  there 
were  many  market  towns  in  Dorsetshire,  and  that 
such  a  sentence  would  subject  him  to  being  flogged 
once  a  fortnight  during  the  period  of  his  imprison- 
ment, and  with  much  feeling  pleaded  the  youth  of 
the  unfortunate  prisoner,  the  unoffending  nature  of 
his  character,  and  in  the  expression  of  his  sentiments, 
guiltless  of  any  meaning  to  offend. 

Jeffrys  refused  to  mitigate  or  withdraw  the  sen- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  169 

tence,  declaring  him,  if  young  in  years,  to  be  an  old 
rogue ;  and  turning  to  the  ladies,  told  them  they  did 
not  know  him  as  he  did,  and  that  his  punishment 
was  a  vast  deal  too  mild  for  his  offences.  "  That  all 
the  interest  which  England  could  commend  should 
not  alter  it." 

The  wretched  prisoner  petitioned  to  be  hanged, 
but  he  was  unheard.  He  was  remanded  back  to  pri- 
son, where  the  agitation  of  his  mind  brought  on  him 
that  most  loathsome  disease,  the  small-pox.  He  lan- 
guished long  in  his  miserable  dungeon,  hoping  death 
would  end  his  earthly  sufferings  by  his  kind  inter- 
position. But  wishes  in  this  way  often  defeat  the 
object,  the  nervous  system  pleasantly  acting  on  the 
physical,  both  are  benefi tted  through  a  medium  so 
strangely  at  variance  with  the  law  of  nature,  that 
action  the  most  contrary  to  desires  thus  formed 
usually  take  place. 

During  this  crisis  of  affairs,  the  lord  chief  justice 
was  applied  to,  to  remit  or  commute  the  sentence; 
and  imagining,  from  the  virulence  of  the  disease,  lit- 
tle probability  of  his  recovery,  consented  to  pardon 
him  on  condition  that  he  gave  up  his  small  paternal 
inheritance,  the  only  thing  he  possessed  on  earth, 
and  where  he  had  dwelt  with  his  mother  ever  since 
he  was  born. 

This  proposition  was  made  to  Tutchin.  He  heard 
it  with  an  agony  of  feeling  I  have  no  words  to  dis- 
cribe.  If  he  consented  to  buy  a  pardon  by  this  sa- 


170  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

crifice,  both,  his  mother  and  himself  would  be  re- 
duced to  indigence.  On  the  other  hand,  his  condition 
was  too  wretched  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment. 
His  home,  humble  though  it  was,  was  dearer  to  his 
heart  than  the  richest  diadem,  for  his  mother's  sake. 
But  there  was  no  alternative,  and  his  aged  parent  in 
welcoming  her  son  to  her  arms,  blessed  Providence 
that  they  possessed  any  thing  to  satisfy  the  monster's 
maw,  with  all  the  poverty  it  promised. 

Tutchin  felt  very  differently.  His  whole  soul  was 
filled  with  a  desire  for  revenge  for  the  torture  he 
had  undergone  and  the  misery  that  remained.  De- 
prived of  his  little  all,  the  labor  of  his  hands  to  sup- 
port himself  and  parent  secured  only  a  perspective 
of  hopeless  and  unmitigated  toil.  In  future  years  he 
was  known  to  be  one  of  the  most  bitter  and  deter- 
mined enemies  of  the  tory  party  and  the  House  of 
Stuart ;  his  character  so  changing  under  the  circum- 
stances to  which  he  was  reduced,  as  scarcely  seemed 
possible  to  one  whose  early  youth  had  been  marked 
for  so  much  that  was  truly  estimable;  although  a 
somewhat  hasty  temper,  to  a  close  observer,  might 
have  indicated  the  result  which  followed  any  great 
adverse  change  in  his  life. 

With  all  his  application,  his  constant  and  untir- 
ing zeal  in  his  work,  Jeffrys  exhibited  no  signs  of 
weariness  or  fatigue.  On  the  contrary,  his  counte- 
nance had  become*  more  florid,  and  his  form  more 
rotund  since  the  commencement  of  the  bloody  as- 


'BRITISH    REBELLION.  171 

sizes.  What  lie  termed  his  successes  every  day,  was 
celebrated  by  a  revel  every  night ;  and  his  boon 
companions  vied  with  each  other  round  the  festal 
board,  in  encomiums  on  the  grandeur  of  that  intel- 
lect which  could  mould  all  things  to  its  sovereign 
will,  and,  as  it  were,  carry  all  before  it.  Like  all 
men  of  his  class,  Jeffrys  loved  flattery.  The  internal 
evidence  of  an  approving  conscience  lent  no  ray  of 
sunshine  to  his  soul — shed  no  cheering  and  sustain- 
ing beams  of  its  mild  radiance  over  his  adamantine 
heart ;  and  the  darkness  might  have  become  so  in- 
tolerable as  at  length  to  lead  him  to  repentance,  had 
not  these  parasites  supplied  with  their  false  tongues 
the  aliment  of  approbation  which  even  the  hardest 
nature,  in  some  form  or  other,  demands.  Still  the 
ferocity  of  his  appearance  had  increased.  The  coun- 
tenance, as  it  always  will  do,  had  followed  the  mind, 

"  And  set  its  seal  of  fiendish  malice  there, 
a  Till  all  beside,  of  great,  or  good,  or  fair, 
"  Had  sadly  vanished." 

The  work  of  death  had  at  length  ceased,  the  last 
victim  been  sacrificed,  and  the  lock  turned  on  the 
treasures  he  could  no  longer  augment  through  par- 
dons from  the  gallows  in  the  west.  But  another 
way  opened  for  small  profits. 

:-  Transportations  of  prisoners  had  amounted  to 
eight  hundred  and  forty -one,  to  each  of  whom  either 
the  axe  or  the  gibbet  would  have  been  an  exercise 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  * 

of  mercy.  They  were  distributed  or  formed  into 
gangs,  and  presented  as  a  mark  of  favor  to  those 
who  held  high  rank  at  court,  with  this  proviso,  that 
they  were  conveyed  to  distant  shores,  sold  as  slaves, 
and  to  continue  in  bondage  for  the  space  of  ten 
years. 

The  place  selected  by  Jeffrys  was  the  "West  In- 
dies, with  an  ingenuity  of  cruelty  for  which  he  was 
so  remarkable.  As  in  a  country  like  that  their  Pro- 
testant principles  would  of  themselves  form  the 
ground  of  dislike ;  and  where  a  native  of  the  tempe- 
rate zone  would  suffer  most  from  the  effects  of  a 
tropical  climate  and  the  lacerating  influences  of  the 
burning  and  constant  heat  that  existed  and  tried 
even  the  natives  themselves  often  with  its  incessant 
drought. 

Their  sufferings  on  their  voyage  exceeded  even 
that  of  the  negroes  abducted  on  the  coast  of  Africa. 
The  holds  were  stowed  closer,  and  many  [of  them 
still  bearing  about  them  the  wounds  received  in  the 
battle  of  Sedgemoor,  were  unable  to  lie  down,  ex- 
cept by  alternating  with  their  miserable  companions. 
Even  a  draft  of  fresh  air  was  forbidden  them,  the 
hatchway  being  always  guarded  to  prevent  their 
coming  on  deck.  Light  was  also  forbidden  ;  and  in 
their  wretched  dungeon,  where  darkness  and  filth 
only  reigned,  the  result  was  that  numbers  died,  and 
those  who  survived  were  so  reduced  by  disease  that 
there  seemed  every  prospect  that,  before  they  reach- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  173 

ed  their  destination,  death  would  end  the  almost 
unheard-of  cruelty  practised  towards  them.  Their 
provisions  were  both  scanty  and  coarse  ;  a  few  hard 
biscuits  per  day,  with  a  small  allowance  of  brackish 
water,  was  all  they  had  to  live  on  for  weeks,  so  that 
when  they  landed  in  Jamaica  their  number  was  con- 
siderably reduced  by  death,  and  the  survivors  look- 
ed more  like  living  skeletons  than  human  beings. 
They  therefore  seemed  to  promise  little  to  their  pos- 
sessors and  employers  in  the  shape  of  profit ;  yet, 
such  was  the  value  of  slaves  at  that  time,  that  they 
actually  brought  an  excellent  price. 

This  had  been  foreseen,  and  many  of  the  tories 
had  really  been  clamorous  for  grants ;  some  in  the 
west  contending  they  were  entitled  to  them  for  their 
loyalty  and  devotion  to  the  king,  and  felt  they  ought 
to  share  in  these  unhallowed  gains  with  the  favorites 
of  Whitehall.  But  James'  minions  prevailed,  and 
they  had  to  yield. 

Jeffrys  reaped  a  small  harvest  here  too.  The  law 
appointed,  that  all  property  held  by  a  person  con- 
victed of  treason,  was  forfeited.  The  unfortunate 
victims  transported  had,  several  of  them,  small  es- 
tates, which  they  had  hoped,  by  strict  secrecy,  to  be 
able  to  retain  against  the  term  of  their  bondage  had 
expired ;  and,  after  their  time  of  suffering  captivity 
should  have  ceased,  to  be  able  to  return  and  enjoy 
them,  if  they  lived,  with  their  families.  This  was 
suspected,  and  persons  set  on  foot  to  discover  every 


174 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


thing  relative  to  their  actual  possessions,  soon  ob- 
tained the  desired  information,  and  the  sufferers'  all 
were  thus  wrenched  from  them  ;  and  a  return  from 
captivity  would  find  them  stripped  of  every  thing, 
and  consigned  to  poverty  the  remainder  of  their 
days. 

Jeffrys  and  his  colleagues  eagerly  devoured  the 
discovered  treasures,  and  appropriated,  without  mer- 
cy or  compunction,  the  hard-earned  gains  of  those 
suffering  sons  of  toil ;  and  deprived  the  bereaved 
wives  and  innocent  helpless  babes  of  their  only 
subsistence. 

The  history  of  those  fearful  times  exhibits  on  its 
surface  a  depravity  almost  unimaginable  in  its  ex- 
tent, and  certainly  unsurpassed  in  its  character  in 
the  same  individuals.  In  Jeffrys,  we  have  beheld  a 
monster  from  first  to  last ;  but  that  he  should  find 
imitators  in  the  softer  sex,  seems  almost  beyond  belief. 
Yet,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  the  queen  and  her  la- 
dies made  themselves  pre-eminently  conspicuous  in 
rapacity  and  hard-heartedness  in  this  horrible  traffic. 
Hearing  of  Jeffrys'  gains  in  this  way,  they  all  be- 
came suddenly  determined  to  profit  by  his  example. 
The  queen  seemed  most  delighted  with  the  idea,  and 
sent  a  request  to  the  lord  chief  justice,  that  a  hun- 
dred of  those  transported  might  be  given  to  her. 

A  woman's  intercession  in  their  behalf  would 
have  been  the  most  natural  suggestion  of  a  feminine 
heart,  in  order  to  their  being  restored  to  their  fami- 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  175 

lies ;  instead  of  which,  we  behold  the  consort  of  roy- 
alty calculating,  first,  on  the  profits  of  their  sale  as 
slaves,  and  then  listening  to  the  details  of  their  suf- 
ferings and  consequent  loss  on  the  voyage,  with  the 
business-like  air  of  a  shrewd  bargainer — and  then 
receiving  the  net  proceeds  of  sale,  which  was  a  thou- 
sand guineas  to  her  part,  with  an  exultation  that 
would  do  credit  to  the  commonest  huckster,  or  the 
veriest  Yankee  pedlar,  over  a  shaving  operation. 

Her  majesty's  maids  of  honor  now  began  to 
devise  plans  for  their  spoils;  and  their  scheming 
and  plotting  ended  in  employing  spies  to  find  out 
those  who  were  in  any  way  conspicuous  in  aid- 
ing the  rebellion.  And  having  obtained  the  queen's 
permission,  they  sent  an  order  that  every  one  of  the 
little  girls,  whom  Jeffrys  had  spared,  who  followed 
in  Monmouth's  procession  at  Taunton,  to  present 
him  with  a  banner  and  a  Bible,  should  be  im- 
prisoned, knowing  many  of  the  parents'  to  be 
wealthy,  and  therefore  anticipating  rich  'ransoms  for 
their  children's  liberation.  A  Sir  Francis  Warre,  a 
tory  member  for  Bridgewater,  was  selected  for  this 
office ;  but  tory  as  he  was,  he  rejected  with  scorn  the 
inhuman  and  unwomanly  orders  he  received,  sanc- 
tioned, as  they  were,  by  the  queen's  authority  of 
signature  and  seal.  A  father  himself,  he  was 
shocked  that  avarice  could  stoop  to  anything  so 
base  as  imprisoning  innocent  children,  who  had  been 
led  to  this  open  demonstration  of  their  feelings  by 


176  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

their  preceptors,  whose  zeal  his  principles  led  him  to 
deprecate,  but  saw  only  in  these  guileless  young 
creatures  a  desire  to  emulate  and  obey  their  in- 
structress in  an  act  they  never  once  thought  of 
being  of  any  further  moment  than  the  appearance 
imported,  that  of  presenting  a  beautiful  standard  to 
the  handsome  duke,  and  the  Bible,  so  beautifully 
bound,  for  him  to  read  and  defend. 

They  then  had  recourse  to  William  Penn ;  and 
strange  to  say,  he  accepted  the  commission.  Charac- 
ters often  present  the  most  incomprehensible  contra- 
dictions. Penn  would  not  descend  to  violate  his  ideas 
of  the  equality  of  man  by  taking  off  his  hat  in 
the  presence  of  royalty,  yet  he  could,  without  even 
a  show  of  reluctance,  so  far  depart  from  the  law  of 
love,  which  is  the  insignia  of  his  order,  as  to  become 
an  agent  for  one  of  the  most  shameful  extortions 
upon  record.  Consistency  is  in  itself  a  virtue,  as  by 
it  we  test  the  sincerity  of  sects  and  individuals.  Our 
actions  are  supposed  to  be  a  transcript  of  the  prin- 
ciples which  we  have  imbibed  of  right  or  wrong, 
and  engrave  themselves  upon  the  minds  of  others,  as 
the  standard  for  virtue  orvice,  by  which  we  must  be 
judged.  Some  have  ascribed  deep  political  motives 
to  his  compliance  with  the  request  of  the  queen's 
maids  of  honor,  and  that  it  had  its  foundation  in  the 
desire  to  benefit  his  suffering  and  oppressed  people. 
Resolving  on  accepting  so  unwelcome  a  mission,  to 
temper,  as  much  as  possible,  measures  so  harsh,  with 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  177 

a  lenity  and  rnercy,  no  other  perhaps  similarly  situ- 
ated would  do,  and  to  abstain  from  participating  in 
any  part  of  the  gain  thus  obtained. 

Seven  thousand  pounds  was  the  sum  set  down 
as  the  ransom  for  the  young  ladies,  but  a  third  only 
was  realized  by  his  fair  employers,  which  they 
greedily  appropriated  to  the  purchase  of  jewels  and 
gew-gaws  for  the  adornment  of  their  persons.  But 
Penn's  services  did  not  end  here.  A  wealthy  mer- 
chant, residing  in  Bridgewater,  was  discovered  to 
have  contributed  largely  in  the  way  of  clothing  for 
the  rebels.  This  was  a  fine  field  for  those  female 
extortioners.  Penn  was  ordered  to  use  the  utmost 
severity  in  exacting  a  proper  sum  for  his  disloyalty. 
Eoger  Hoare  was  a  plain  but  excellent  man,  re- 
markable for  his  benevolence  and  liberality.  As  a 
Protestant,  he  disliked  James'  character  and  prin- 
ciples, and  wished  success  most  fervently  to  the 
cause  of  Monmouth,  though  he  carefully  guarded 
the  expression  of  his  feelings,  and  contented  himself 
merely  by  assisting  with  a  good  supply  of  clothes 
for  the  rebel  army,  whose  worn  and  shabby  appear- 
ance appealed  at  once  to  his  benevolence,  and  de- 
sires to  assist  privately  in  a  cau  e  so  dear  to  his 
heart. 

The  merchant  had  imagined  all  knowledge  of 
the  circumstance  was  hidden,  or  had  passed  away 
from  the  remembrance  of  every  one,  till  Penn's  pre- 
sence, one  fine  morning,  as  he  stood  in  his  ware- 

9 


178  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

house,  Reminded  him  of  his  offence  to  the  existing 
sovereign.  Mr.  Hoare,  when  questioned,  attempted 
no  denial  of  the  charge,  but  calmly  averred  the 
assistance  he  had  been  induced  to  render  the  unfor- 
tunate in  their  day  of  necessity,  hoping  to  find  a 
coincidence  in  a  member  of  the  Friends  for  this 
plain  Christian  act.  But  the  Quaker  gave  no  re- 
sponse to  this  amiable  avowal;  on  the  contrary,  he 
demanded  a  penalty  for  the  enormity  of  his  offence. 
In  vain  he  pleaded  the  liberty  enjoyed  in  all  ages  of 
ministering  to  the  distressed,  and  the  Divine  com- 
mand of  giving  to  him  who  needed.  The  orders 
Penn  had  received  were  absolute,  and  the  good  Sa- 
maritan was  forced  to  yield  a  thousand  pounds 
to  save  himself  from  the  horrors  of  a  prison,  and  a 
separation  from  the  bosom  of  his  family,  for  that 
was  the  only  alternative  of  his  refusal. 

.The  queen,  like  her  husband,  was  no  favorite  with 
the  people.  An  austere  Catholic,  like  James,  she 
desired  above  all  things  to  convert  the  whole  .Eng- 
lish nation  to  Eomanism.  Her  feelings,  like  his, 
seemed  entirely  to  be  concentrated  to  this  one  point, 
and  the  wishes  so  signally  manifested  in  favor  of 
Monmouth  and  the  Protestant  religion,  while  it 
proved  their  disloyalty,  also  displayed,  in  a  forceable 
light,  a  determination  of  resistance  to  their  wishes, 
which  rankled  deep  in  hearts  whose  ambition  for 
power  was  the  ruling  passion  of  their  lives ;  so  that 
when  the  hour  of  revenge  came,  it  fell  with  all-  the 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  179 

rancour  and  malice  the  most  inveterate  natures 
could  suggest.  Both  the  king  and  his  consort  might 
be  said  to  revel  in  the  scenes  of  butchery  described 
so  exultingly  by  Jeffrys,  and  a  lesson  of  future  sub  • 
mission  to  their  august  rulers  they  trusted  would  be 
taught. 

With  their  cruelty,  too,  was  blended  an  avarice 
of  the  most  detestable  and  debased  nature.  Their 
most  darling  aims  could  be  set  aside  where  interest 
led  the  way.  James  spared  neither  age  or  sex  to 
the  pleadings  of  affection,  kindred,  or  power.  But 
money  could  purchase  what  feeling  could  not  buy. 
The  poor  peasants  had  been  ruthlessly  slaughtered 
and  transported.  Not  a  single  ray  of  mercy  had 
shone  on  their  dreadful  doom ;  while  others,  far 
more  at  fault  than  they — their  guides  and  leaders — 
had  escaped,  because  they  bought  for  themselves  a 
pardon,  which  could  be  granted  on  no  other  terms. 
Lord  Grey  was  certainly  more  deserving  of  death 
than  the  illiterate  but  faithful  rustics,  who  followed 
so  zealously  the  commands  of  their  leader ;  yet  he 
escaped.  But  he  was  the  fortunate  possessor  of  an 
estate  whose  value  rested  on  his  life  alone.  Being 
strictly  entailed,  it  fell  at  his  death  into  the  hands  of 
the  next  heir ;  so  that  no  gain  whatever  could  accrue 
from  his  execution, — but  much  from  granting  con- 
ditional pardon. 

The  terms  were  forty  thousand  pounds,  which 
Grey  was  but  too  glad  to  yield  to  his  extortioners, 


180  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

for  many  shared  in  the  ransom,  though  the  greater 
part  was  paid  into  the  hands  of  the  lord  treasurer, 
for  the  royal  benefit. 

Then  there  was  a  Sir  John  Cochrane,  who  led  the 
Scotch  rebels  in  the  same  manner  as  Lord  Grey.  He 
too  was  made  a  captive ;  and  the  universal  opinion 
was,  that  he  would  share  the  same  fate  as  Argyle 
and  Monmouth.  But  his  friends  thought  of  the  key 
that  unlocked  the  king's  heart.  They  were  rich, 
and  bribed  the  priests  of  the  royal  household  in  five 
thousand  pounds.  This  obtained  his  pardon,  and  he 
was  set  at  liberty. 

Comment  is  unnecessary.  Justice  and  humanity 
were  terms  of  no  import  in  the  vocabulary  of  those 
times.  Might,  not  right,  ruled,  and  all  things  fell  un- 
der the  dominion  of  avarice  and  cruelty.  To  be  poor 
and  penniless  was  to  be,  indeed,  unfortunate ;  for 
nothing  could  be  obtained  without  some  end  in  view. 

A  man  by  the  name  of  Storey  was  one  of  those  per- 
sons who  delight  in  public  speaking ;  and  preceded 
Monmouth  through  the  towns  of  Somersetshire,  for 
the  purpose  of  addressing  the  people  on  the  subject 
and  cause  of  the  rebellion, — using  the  most  exciting 
language,  and  presenting  the  most  glowing  pictures 
to  their  imaginations,  relative  to  the  result.  These 
addresses  had  a  most  powerful  effect,  and  tended  to  a 
constant  increase  of  the  rebel  forces.  He  would  have 
shared  the  common  fate,  but  for  the  intervention  of 
interest.  When  Jeffrys  wanted  information  in  the 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  181 

case  of  Prideaux,  no  witness  could  be  found  so  valu- 
able as  Storey ;  and  through  his  testimony  alone  the 
fifteen  thousand  pounds  were  obtained.  By  this  means 
he  received  an  unconditional  pardon. 

"  Mercy  shone,  through  clouds  of  gold, 
"For  the  young  or  for  the  old: 
"  If  yon  could  her  favor  buy, 
"Terror  in  all  forms  would  fly." 

Such  was  the  spirit  of  the  age. 


, 
**    V* 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 


There  were  three  who,  after  the  battle  of  Sedge- 
moor,  escaped  to  the  coast — Goodenough,  Ferguson, 
and  Wade.  But  a  frigate,  unfortunately,  was  cruis- 
ing around  the  place  where  they  had  hoped  to  em- 
bark. They  were  not  all  together.  Ferguson  managed 
to  escape,  but  the  other  two  were  taken  and  brought 
up  to  London,  with  every  prospect  to  themselves  and 
others  of  being  executed,  like  Monmouth.  Fortu- 
nately for  them,  they  could  give  information  that  no 
one  else  could,  relative  to  some  poor  wretches  for 
whom  the  king  entertained  an  inveterate  hatred ; 
and  by  which  means  he  was  enabled  to  glut  his  cruel 
nature  by  slaughter  and  plunder,  no  other  persons 
being  able  to  implicate  them  in  any  actual  crime. 
Wade  and  Goodenough  had  been  deeply  engaged 
in  the  Eye-house  Plot,  and  were  most  conspicuous  in 
Monmouth's  rebellion,  but  gained  a  pardon  for  all 
from  James,  for  the  opportunity  thus  given  for  his 
revenge. 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  183 

Ferguson  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  active 
instruments  in  promoting  the  rebellion,  from  first  to 
last.  Possessing  a  great  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
ke  employed  the  subtle  reasoning  for  which  he  was 
remarkable  in  achieving,  he  had  hoped,  the  downfall 
tff  James.  To  this  end,  he  inflated  the  desires  of  Mon- 
mouth,  by  flattering  the  weak  sides  of  his  character, 
and  assailing  him  on  his  most  vulnerable  points. 

Monmouth  might  almost  be  said  to  be  a  complete 
tool  in  his  hands ;  and  but  too  readily  adopted  the 
measures  he  suggested.  The  proclamation  at  Lyme, 
written  by  him,  was  one  of  the  most  atrocious  nature, 
ascribing  to  the  king  crimes  of  the  blackest  and  most 
fearful  description,  which,  coming  as  it  did,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, from  Monmouth,  laid  the  foundation  of  that 
merciless  rigor  which  distinguished  James'  behavior 
towards  the  unfortunate  and  misguided  duke.  Yet 
with  all  these  things  against  him,  many  supposed  that 
Ferguson  had  received  a  pardon  from  the  king  with- 
out even  paying  for  it.  There  is  no  real  authority  to 
support  this  supposition ;  and  his  escape  from  punish- 
ment is  only  ascribable  to  the  cunning  and  foresight 
which  at  all  times  marked  his  character.  The  king 
had  no  motive  for  pardoning  him,  and  James  was  not 
the  man  to  extend  mercy  causelessly  to  an  open  and 
professed  enemy,  when  lamentations  and  petitions 
for  the  lives  of  two  innocent  women,  Lady  Alice 
Lisle,  and  Mrs.  Gaunt,  were  poured  in  vain  into  his 
cruel  and  callous  ears. 


184  BRITISH     KKBELLIOK. 

Speculation  was  on  the  alert,  but  nothing  positive 
could  be  known  respecting  Ferguson's  whereabouts, 
the  arch-traitor,  as  he  was  called  ;  who,  while  excit- 
ing his  fellow-plotters,  by  his  inventive  genius  for 
mischief,  in  the  early  stages  of  the  rebellion,  was 
known  to  send  such  reports  of  the  various  conspira- 
tors to  Whitehall,  as  protected  him  from  all  the  con- 
sequences of  a  rebel  subject.  He  was  therefore  held 
in  great  abhorrence  by  many  who  had  once  been  his 
friends,  and  his  capture  would  have  been  hailed  with 
delight.  How  he  managed,  therefore,  was  never 
known ;  and  surmise,  though  actively  engaged,  ar- 
rived at  no  positive  conclusion :  though  it  at  length 
became  a  settled  fact,  that  he  was  living  comforta- 
bly on  the  continent. 

Meanwhile,  Jeffrys  having  finished  his  career  in 
the  west,  had  returned  to  London  to  receive  the  pro- 
mised reward  for  his  faithful  services.  He  was 
received  with  every  demonstration  of  joy  by  his 
sovereign,  and  at  Windsor  the  great  seal  of  England 
was  presented  to  him,  in  token  of  James'  heartfelt 
approbation  of  the  cruelty  and  heartlessness  he  had 
practiced  towards  the  suffering  and  wretched  victims 
of  the  rebellion,  the  relation  of  whose  tortures  fell 
like  manna  in  the  wilderness  on  the  heart  of  that 
merciless  and  sanguinary  monarch.  Their  meeting 
was  a  source  of  much  jollity  and  feasting,  and  the 
bloated  face  of  the  favorite  judge  assumed  a  yet 
deeper  shade  of  exulting  ferocity,  if  that  were  possi^ 


BRITISH     REBELLION,  185 

ble,  as  he  quaffed  the  rich  drafts  of  flattery  and 
commendation  from  his  sovereign's  lips>  In  those 
days  of  brightness,  sunshine  and  prosperity,  these 
two  banding  panegyrists  little  expected  that  a  season 
was  fast  approaching  when  the  well  turned  compli- 
ment and  the  ready  speech  to  each  other's  praise 
would  be  turned  into  the  gall  and  bitterness  of  re- 
proof and  reproach ;  each  one  throwing  on  the  other 
the  odium  of  cruelty,  and  censure  for  his  hardheart- 
edness.  James,  deprived  of  his  power,  and  languish- 
ing in  exile  at  St,  Germain's,  would  have  gladly 
screened  himself  at  the  expense  of  his  servant ;  and 
Jeffrys,  a  captive  in  the  tower,  protested  that  all  the 
rigorous  acts  ascribed  to  him  were  done  at  the  ex- 
press commands  of  the  king.  These  attempts  at 
exculpation  were  received  with  the  contempt  they 
so  justly  merited ;  for  proofs  too  glaring,  in  the  cri- 
mination of  both,  were  in  existence,  comdemning 
them  to  the  malediction  of  the  good  and  virtuous  in 
all  ages,  and  branding  their  characters  with  a  black- 
ness which  is  without  a  parallel  in  the  chronicles  of 
any  Christian  country. 

Somersetshire,  and  the  neighboring  county,  was 
at  length  freed  from  the  awful  presence  of  Jeffrys, 
though  the  cypress  still  waved  mournfully  over  the 
smiling  land ;  for  poverty,  want,  and  its  concomitant, 
disease,  flooded  every  section  of  that  beautiful  coun- 
try, and  hearts  made  desolate  were  the  only  topics 
of  the  times.  Death,  in  his  most  horrid  aspect,  had 

9* 


180 


BRITISH     REBELLION, 


visited  their  once  happy  borders,  and  peopled  their 
minds  and  memories  with  the  most  terrible  objects. 
Superstition  caused  even  an  addition  to  their  real 
horrors,  by  supplying  ghostly  visitations  of  unquiet 
spirits,  whose  untimely  fate  had  sent  them  unpre- 
pared into  the  realms  of  an  unending  eternity. 

With  Jeffrys'  arrival  in  London  commenced  the 
troubles  of  the  whig  merchants  of  the  city.  In  pos- 
session of  the  seal,  his  spirits  required  no  spur,  no 
further  invigoration  to  resume  the  employment  his 
heart  and  energies  had  so  long  been  devoted  to. 
The  work  of  death  and  torture  were  the  delights 
of  his  life,  and  he  commenced  ferretting  out  every 
shadow  of  a  case  that  presented  itself,  in  the  hope 
of  splendid  spoils. 

He  was  not  so  fortunate  as  he  expected,  for,  al- 
though in  Charles'  reign  men  who  stood  highest  in 
commercial  riches  and  grandeur  were  numbered 
among  the  opposite  party ;  yet  during  Monmouth's 
career  they  had  carefully  abstained  from  every  ex- 
pression hostile  to  James,  while  in  their  hearts  desir- 
ing nothing  so  much  as  the  duke's  success.  Hating 
Popery,  they  desired  above  all  things  a  Protestant 
king,  but  they  had  done  nothing  towards  its  accom- 
plishment, as  they  feared  the  result.  The  wealth  of 
a  merchant  is  always  attainable,  being,  unlike  that 
of  noblemen  and  many  country  gentlemen,  fre- 
quently entailed  to  prevent  its  being  forfeited.  In 
the  case  of  Lord  Grey,  nothing  could  be  gained  by 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  187 

depriving  him  of  life  or  liberty,  as  his  estates  would 
pass  at  once  into  the  hands  of  the  succeeding  heir, 
from  having  been  thus  secured.  Merchants,  thought 
Jeffrys,  can  be  made  profitable,  whether  hanged  or 
spared.  By  sufficient  proof,  if  executed,  their  posses- 
sions can.  be  confiscated;  and  in  the  other  event, 
they  can  purchase  a  pardon  by  a  suitable  bonus. 
And  now  to  work. 

The  first  object  that  presented  itself  was  a  gen- 
tleman by  the  name  of  Cornish.  He  had  been 
elected  alderman  of  the  city,  under  the  old  charter, 
and  "  had  filled  the  office  of  sheriff  when  the  ques- 
tion of  the  Exclusion  Bill  had  occupied  the  public 
mind."  In  his  religious  principles  he  was  a  Protes- 
tant, and  much  attached  to  the  Presbyterian  form  of 
worship.  He  bore  a  high  character  for  integrity, 
and  always  preserved  a  cautious  reserve  in  the 
expression  of  his  opinions.  No  one  had  therefore 
ever  ascribed  to  him  anything  like  treasonable  sen- 
timents, yet  on  this  man  Jeffrys  had  set  his  eye. 
When  the  Rye-house  Plot  was  discovered,  there  was 
a  strong  wish  to  implicate  Cornish,  and!  Rumsey, 
one  of  the  conspirators,  would  very  readily  have 
witnessed  anything  against  him,  but  more  than  one 
witness  was  necessary,  and  at  that  time  none  other 
could  be  found. 

Groodenough,  during  the  period  of  his  being 
sheriff,  had  been  nominated  to  fill  the  office  of  de- 
puty, but  Cornish,  who  knew  him  to  be  a  man 


188  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

utterly  destitute  of  principle,  refused  to  employ  him 
in  that  capacity.    Two  years  had  elapsed  since  then, 
and  Goodenough  came  very  near  forfeiting  his  life, 
One  of  the  conditions  of  his  pardon  was  giving  the 
necessary  information  for  the  full  conviction  of  Cor- 
nish, which  as  well  as  to  gratify  a  feeling  of  revenge 
for  his  rejection  of  him  to  fill  an  office  he  had 
much  desired,  he  used  his  utmost  to  effect.     By 
Cornish  himself  the  remembrance  had  entirely  pass- 
ed away.     Not  so  his  malicious  enemies.     At  Jef- 
frys'  orders  he  was  arrested,  one  day,  while  transact- 
ing his  usual  business  at  the  Exchange,  and  carried 
off  to  jail.     He  was  confined  three  days,  and  then 
without  any  preparation,  and  scarcely  knowing  the 
nature  of  the  offence  he  was  charged  with,  he  was 
brought  up  to  the  Old  Bailey  to  be  tried  by  three 
of  the  judges  who  had  accompanied  Jeffrys  during 
all  the  trials  in  the  west.    He  was  accused  of  trea- 
son, under  the  united  testimony  of  Kumsey  and 
Goodenough,  who  acknowledged  themselves  his  ac- 
complices.    Much  depended  on  his  conviction ;  and 
hope  and  fear  alternated  in  their  bosoms  all  through 
the  trial.   If  they  failed  to  substantiate  their  charges 
their  own  lives  would  in  all  probability  be  the  for- 
feit, as  on  this  ground  merely  had  their  liberty  and 
exemption  from  death  been  granted.     There  were 
great  discrepancies  in  their  accounts.     In  that  of 
Kumsey  in  particular.     The  story  he  had  formerly 
told  when  appearing  a  witness  against  Lord  Bus- 


BRITISH     REBELLION. 

sel,  was  very  different  to  the  one  now  given.  This 
point  was  argued  in  favor  of  the  prisoner,  but  his 
accusers  triumphed,  and  those  judges  with  ferocity 
in  their  looks  and  tones,  emulating  their  leader  in 
brutality  and  coarseness,  addressed  this  excellent 
man  in  language  too  revolting  for  repetition,  till 
hope  entirely  expired  beneath  their  peltings,  and  a 
jury  ended  all  conjecture  on  a  subject  so  palpably 
unjust,  yet  so  powerfully  subjugated  to  the  will  of 
his  enemies,  by  rendering  a  verdict  of  guilty. 

Ten  days  after  he  was  executed,  and  the  people 
of  London  had  to  -behold  an  outrage  on  justice  and 
humanity  which  sickened  their  very  souls.  Their 
murmurings  and  distress  at  the  fate  of  this  good 
man  filled  the  public  prints,  and  mourning  dwelt  in 
every  heart.  He  died  with  many  pious  expressions 
on  his  lips,  though  his  feelings  towards  his  enemies 
could  not  be  suppressed ;  and  he  uttered  many  bit' 
ter  things  against  those  who  had  conspired  so  cruelly 
against  him.  This  greatly  enraged  Eumsey  and 
Goodenough,  who  spread  a  report  that  his  senses 
had  left  him,  or  that  he  was  drunk. 

"William  Penn,  whom  we  again  find  mingling 
with  the  crowd  around  the  gallows,  refuted  this 
malignant  assertion,  by  declaring  "that  there  was 
nothing  in  his  manner  and  deportment  but  the 
natural  feelings  of  humanity,  at  a  sentence  so  bar- 
borous  and  unmerited,  sanctioned  by  forms  of  law, 
while  wholly  unsupported  by  truth  and  justice." 


190  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

Cornish  was  evidently  the  victim  of  secret  malice, 
for  only  by  false  swearing  could  anything  be  found 
against  him.  But  a  deep  enmity  had  to  be  gratified, 
and  even  in  compassing  his  death,  everything  which 
could  augment  his  agony  was  ingeniously  devised. 
The  jibbet  was  paraded  through  the  most  public 
streets,  and  erected  in  front  of  his  own  house,  where 
he  had  dwelt  for  years  in  the  esteem  and  respect  of 
all  who  knew  him ;  opposite  to  the  Exchange,  where 
his  mercantile  transactions  had  secured  to  him  a 
credit  of  the  highest  standing ;  and  very  near  Guild 
Hall,  where  his  talents  had  greatly  distinguished 
him  with  those  parties  who  had  elected  him  on  most 
occasions  as  their  leader.  Here  his  head  was  cruelly 
and  maliciously  exposed  after  death.  His  widow 
and  family  were  beyond  the  reach  of  sympathy, 
their  despair  being  completely  overwhelming.  His 
life  had  been  so  blameless,  so  marked  by  every  pri- 
vate and  public  virtue,  that  at  home  and  abroad  the 
name  of  Henry  Cornish  was  always  coupled  with 
praise.  And  one  like  him  to  be  arraigned  and  con- 
victed of  treason,  established  an  idea  so  diabolical, 
that  it  seemed  even  to  exceed  the  wickedness  of  the 
Spanish  Inquisition. 

But  while  these  things  were  going  forward  with- 
out, within  Whitehall  all  was  exultation  and  delight 
Power  triumphed,  and  bigotry,  cruelty,  and  hate 
gloated  over  her  victims  with  feelings  of  unmingled 
satisfaction. 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  101 

Goodenough's  anxiety  for  his  life  was  not  yet 
over,  lie  had  yet  more  work  to  do.  Trembling  for 
his  fate,  he  had  watched  with  fearful  and  anxious 
interest  the  trial  of  Cornish,  and  when  all  was  over, 
congratulated  himself  on  being  able  to  effect  some- 
thing to  ground  his  claim  of  pardon  upon,  by  a  ful- 
filment of  one  of  the  conditions  on  which  he  was  to 
receive  it.  Goodenough,  however,  was  only  one  of 
many  in  this  respect.  Others  like  him  were  kept  for 
the  same  purpose,  so  that  they  had  but  to  pounce 
on  a  victim  and  devour  him.  The  order  of  the  day 
seemed  the  excitement  produced  by  cruelty,  and, 
like  the  Spanish  bull-fights,  to  form  the  great  amuse- 
ment of  the  times.  The  king  and  his  minions  de- 
lighted to  ferret  out  everything  like  the  shadow  of 
offensive  principles  in  the  past  as  well  as  present, 
so  that  no  one  thought  themselves  safe.  James 
hated  his  subjects  on  a  ground  where  his  spirit  was 
most  goaded.  He  had  desired,  above  all  things,  to 
establish  Papacy,  and  subjugate  the  nation  to  his 
own  peculiar  views.  Their  resistance  had  excited 
his  worst  feelings,  and  the  desire  for  revenge  caused 
him  to  treasure  up  everything  he  had  ever  heard 
against  persons  who,  at  any  time,  had  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  express  views  in  opposition  to  himself. 
Implacable,  revengeful,  cruel,  and  ambitious  of 
power,  the  softer  elements  of  humanity  were  entirely 
crushed  and  destroyed,  and  on  his  Protestant  sub- 
jects, for  their  resistance  to  his  will,  he  loved  to 


192  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

wreak  all  the  fiendish  malignity  of  his  dark  an( 
baffled  passions. 

So  far  back  as  1681,  the  commencement  of  our 
narrative,  when  the  Earl  of  Shaftsbury  was  one  of 
the  conspirators  in  Monmouth's  clique,  during  his 
imprisonment,  requiring  medical  advice,  he  had  sent 
for  a  surgeon  by  the  name  of  Bateman,  who  was 
known  to  entertain  exclusive  principles,  and  sup- 
posed by  many  to  have  known  and  favored  the  Rye- 
house  Plot.  This,  however,  was  merely  conjecture. 
He  was  indicted  at  the  time  for  the  offence,  but  the 
proofs  adduced  were  of  too  unsubstantial  a  nature 
to  convict  him,  and  he  was  cleared.  But  the  remem- 
brance of  these  charges  rankled  deep  in  the  hearts 
of  his  enemies.  And  the  wicked  policy  adopted  of 
keeping  unpardoned  traitors  for  the  purpose  of  plac- 
ing their  own  lives  at  their  own  option,  by  giving 
testimony  or  withholding  it,  rendered  every  wish 
for  vengeance  comparatively  easy. 

Several  of  these  men,  with  Goodenough,  were 
now  required  to  give  evidence  against  this  unoffend- 
ing surgeon.  At  the  time  of  his  arrest,  to  render 
the  act  still  more  revolting,  he  was  confined  to  a 
bed  of  sickness,  from  which  he  was  mercilessly 
dragged  by  the  officers,  and  thrown  into  a  damp 
and  unwholesome  cell,  notwithstanding  the  prayers, 
tears,  and  intreaties  of  his  afflicted  wife  and  family, 
who  besought  only  to  keep  him  till  he  should  be 
even  sufficiently  recovered  to  walk. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  193 

They  were  deaf  to  all  this  pleading.  He  was  re- 
moved on  a  charge  of  high  treason,  though  in  reality 
for  the  exercise  of  that  humane  disposition  which 
was  his  great  characteristic. 

The  real  nature  of  his  offence  was  dressing  the 
wounds  of  Gates,  in  Newgate-prison,  after  his  flog- 
ging. Though  he  was  arrested  on  the  charge  of  join- 
ing in  the  plot  for  the  murder  of  the  royal  brothers ; 
and  being  privy,  through  Shaftesbury,  to  the  rebel- 
lion set  on  foot  by  Monmouth,  previous  to  Charles' 
death,  to  prevent  James'  accession.  Under  cover  of 
these  charges,  he  was  in  reality  hanged  and  quartered 
for  his  professional  aid  to  Gates,  leaving  a  beloved 
and  amiable  family  plunged  in  the  deepest  grief. 

His  son  and  daughter  read  notes  for  him  at  the 
bar,  as  he  was  unable  to  stand,  from  weakness,  to 
make  any  defence  himself.  These  efforts  served  them 
of  little  purpose,  as  those  poor  wretches,  waiting  for 
pardons,  but  too  readily  swore  away  every  evidence 
of  a  truthful  nature,  by  the  enormous  and  overbear- 
ing relation  of  the  most  atrocious  falsehoods,  which 
they  sanctioned  and  confirmed  by  oaths. 


-> 


CHAPTER    IX 


But  a  great  revolution  was  at  hand.  James'  days 
were  numbering  fast,  and  the  handwriting  on  the 
wall  was  soon  to  blazen  forth  the  irrevocable  doom, 
"  thy  kingdom  is  rent  from  thee."  Misery's  reign 
was  nearly  at  its  close ;  but,  ere  the  flame  was  en- 
tirely extinguished,  its  flickering  extended  where 
the  insignia  of  its  sacred  order  should  have  shielded 
its  quiet  and  unoffending  victims  from  the  most 
merciless  and  cruel  of  monarch's  malignity. 

The  solemnity  of  the  times  had  induced  a  re- 
ligious feeling  throughout  the  land,  of  more  than 
usual  earnestness.  Prayer  meetings  were  constantly 
held,  to  which  people  flocked  to  receive  the  only 
consolation  that  remained  to  them.  But  even  this 
was  denied.  Spies  were  stationed  everywhere,  con- 
venticles watched,  and  congregations  interrupted  in 
their  worship  by  magisterial  warrants.  All  office- 
holders were  in  league  with  the  king  for  the  sup- 
pression of  what  was  termed  Puritanism.  Jeffrys 
was  an  Episcopalian,  and  hated  non-conformists  as 
much  as  James  disliked  Protestantism.  The  dis- 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  195 

• 

senters,  therefore,  were  held  in  hourly  and  daily 
fear ;  yet  their  ardor  remained  unabated.  Their  faith 
and  zeal  increased  with  every  added  difficulty,  and 
their  minds  being  constantly  occupied  by  the  one 
desire  which  pervaded  their  hearts,  this  opposition 
tended  to  strengthen  rather  than  depress  the  delight 
with  which  their  stolen  meetings  were  obtained. 
Contrivance  was  constantly  on  the  alert ;  and  though 
often  baffled,  they  continued  to  devise  means  for  that 
exercise  of  conscientious  freedom  which  is  the  un- 
alienable  right  of  every  human  being. 

The  evening  hour  found  many  a  faithful  band 
assembled  beneath  some  friendly  roof;  and,  with 
their  hymn-books  in  their  hands,  singing  with  muf- 
fled voices  the  praises  of  Jehovah. 

Dissenting  ministers  fared  worse  than  all  others 
at  this  time,  being  afraid  to  walk  the  streets ;  as 
whenever  they  were  seen,  insults  from  the  lowest 
rabble  were  not  only  permitted  but  encouraged. 
Several,  of  great  fame,  had  been  taken  and  impri- 
soned, among  whom  was  Eichard  Baxter.  Thus 
gloom  piervaded  the  land  in  all  forms,  and  lent  an 
aspect  to  the  period  of  James'  administration,  a  dark- 
ness which  shadowed  every  feature  of  England's 
greatness  and  glory  in  one  mass  of  melancholy  ruin. 

The  horrors  of  the  rebellion  having  ceased,  and 
given  place  to  this  new  persecution,  Monmouth's 
name  in  London  was  fading  fast  away  from  the  men- 
tion, if  not  the  remembrances  of  the  people.  Not  so 


196  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

in  the  country.  Throughout  Somersetshire,  there 
were  hundreds  who  believed  him  still  alive ;  and 
this  idea  was  so  dearly  cherished,  and  so  absolutely 
and  entirely  believed  in,  that  it  formed  the  theme  of 
every  happy  interval  around  their,  firesides  and 
boards.  Often,  during  the  year's  decline,  when  the 
horrors  of  the  bloody  assizes  had  ceased  to  scourge 
the  land ;  when  evening  closed  on  the  labors  of  the 
day,  and  its  quiet  invited  repose,  would  peasants 
and  farmers  congregate  into  groups,  to  talk  over  the 
defeature  of  the  good  duke ;  and  expatiating  on  his 
bravery  and  kindheartedness,  excite  themselves  into 
a  belief  that  he  could  not  be  dead.  "  0,  how  he 
fought  at  Sedgemoor,"  was  echoed  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  "  No,  it's  my  belief,"  they  would  simulta- 
neously add,  "  that  he  is  yet  alive,  and  will  one  day, 
with  stronger  forces,  cut  his  way  to  the  throne,  and 
God  speed  the  day." 

Such  was  the  state  of  feeling  existing  in  places 
where  suffering,  sorrow,  and  defeature  had  only  fol- 
lowed the  steps  of  Monmouth — and  such  the  popu- 
lar belief  of  his  actual  existence — that  ballads  were 
written  and  sung  all  through  England,  declaring  it 
to  be  the  case,  accompanied  by  many  prophetic  de- 
scriptions of  the  success  which  was  ultimately  to 
crown  his  endeavors.  The  supposition  at  present 
was,  that  he  was  absent,  and  would  return  after  the 
lapse  of  four  years,  fully  equipped  for  his  victorious 
cause.  Several  of  these  songs  are  still  preserved  in 


.'BRITISH     REBELLIOK.  197 

the  Pepsyan  collection.  Two  verses,  which  we  here 
quote,  will  serve  to  explain  the  prevailing  sentiment 
of  the  people.  They  are  as  follows : 

"  Though  this  is  a  dismal  story 

Of  the  fall  of  my  design, 
Yet  I'll  come  again  in  glory, 

If  I  live  till  eighty-nine  : 

For  I'll  have  a  stronger  army, 

And  of  ammunition  more. 

"Then  shall  Monmouth,  in  his  glories, 

To  his  English  friends  appear, 
And  will  stifle  ail  such  stories 

As  are  blended  every  where. 
They'll  see  it  was  not  so  degraded 

To  be  taken  gathering  pease, 
Or  in  a  cock  of  hay  fast  braided ; — 

What  strange  stories  now  are  these  !" 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  though  so  many  had 
actually  witnessed  his  death,  this  idea  gained  a  most 
extensive  credence ;  and  people  looked  forward  with 
certainty  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  prediction  contain- 
ed in  the  ballad.  Old  and  young  delighted  to  talk 
about  it,  and  filled  their  minds  with  visions  of  his 
future  elevation  above  the  heads  of  those  enemies 
who  had  vainly  sought  to  compass  his  ruin.  Mon- 
mouth, though  dead,  might  truly  be  said  to  be  their 
living  idol ;  for  their  hearts  were  full  of  admiration 
and  love  for  one,  who,  whatever  faults  he  might  pos- 
sess as  a  man,  his  glory  as  a  hero,  to  these  devoted 
beings,  remained  untarnished  and  irrevocable. 


198  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

As  years  rolled  along,  and  the  time  specified 
drew  near,  the  hearts  of  the  peasantry  began  to  an* 
ticipate  his  presence  among  them,  and  a  knavish  fel- 
low, calling  himself  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  ob* 
tained  money  in  several  villages,  even  near  London, 
on  the  ground  of  raising  troops  and  commencing  his 
victorious  war.  He  was  soon,  however,  apprehend- 
ed, and  sentenced  to  be  flogged  from  Newgate  to 
Tyburn,  a  punishment  which  he  actually  underwent. 
In  1698  the  fraud  was  again  repeated,  although  the 
people  of  England  were  in  the  enjoyment  of  that 
constitutional  freedom  for  which  they  had  long 
sighed.  The  Prince  of  Orange  was  firmly  seated  on 
the  British  throne,  and  the  tyrant  James  an  exile 
from  the  land  over  which  he  had  ruled  so  arbitrarily. 
Yet,  such  a  spell  did  the  name  of  Monmouth  possess, 
that  the  son  of  an  innkeeper  in  Sussex,  bearing  a 
strong  resemblance  to  the  unfortunate  duke,  resolved 
to  personate  him,  and  represent  himself  to  the  people 
throughout  Somersetshire  as  having  come  again  to 
war  against  the  ruling  powers,  and  reign  as  their 
sovereign. 

This  acted  like  an  electric  shock,  and  spread  like 
wildfire  throughout  the  land;  and  every  demon- 
stration of  affection  was  eagerly  showered  on  the 
man  whom  they  believed  to  be  their  beloved  Mon- 
mouth. Five  hundred  pounds  were  readily  col- 
lected for  him,  a  handsome  horse  presented,  while 


BRITISH     RHBBLLIOW.  109 

the  farmers'  wives  and  daughters  outvied  each  other 
in  presents  and  favors  to  their  favorite. 

For  a  long  time  he  luxuriated  on  the  bounties 
of  these  simple  and  loving  people ;  but  his  doings 
getting  wind,  he  was  committed  to  prison  as  an  im- 
postor; yet,  so  strong  was  their  belief  in  his  identity, 
that  they  even  then  continued  to  supply  him  with 
every  luxury  their  farms  yielded,  and  to  persevere 
in  their  conviction  that  he  was  truly  the  veritable 
Monmouth  who  fought  in  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor. 

When  his  trial  came  on  at  the  Horsham  assizes, 
they  came  in  a  body  to  establish  his  claims,  and  con- 
tradict, from  their  personal  knowledge  of  the  duke, 
the  base  idea  of  his  being  an  impostor.  He  was 
liberated,  but  the  lesson  he  had  learned  during  his 
incarceration  effectually  put  a  stop  to  all  further 
attempts  of  enriching  himself  on  such  dangerous 
grounds.  Much  to  the  people's  discomfiture,  he  re- 
tired from  the  field,  and  sunk  into  his  former  ob- 
scurity, congratulating  himself  on  escaping  so  well. 

But  the  delusion  still  continued  to  exist,  and  the 
warm-hearted  yeomanry  and  peasantry  hoped  yet  to 
see  the  day  when  he  would  with  greater  confidence 
and  boldness  assert  his  cause,  and  under  more  pros- 
perous circumstances  fearlessly  prosecute  his  claims 
to  the  crown  of  England,  and  his  idolizing  subjects 
see  their  Monmouth  on  the  throne. 

Few  earthly  monarchs  have  ever  possessed  the 
affections  of  their  people  to  the  extent  that  Mon- 


200  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

moutli  did.  With  nations  generally  they  are  easily 
led  according  to  the  phases  of  prosperity,  or  the 
general  bearing  of  their  sovereign's  character.  A 
single  act  has  been  known  to  produce  marvellous 
results  in  this  respect.  But  unshaken  constancy  was 
the  undoubted  characteristic  of  one  portion  of  Mon- 
mouth's  followers.  On  his  second  attempt  at  rebel- 
lion, the  gentry,  actuated  by  a  prudential  policy, 
had  seceded  from  their  former  promised  allegiance. 
Not  so  the  farmers  and  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  they 
evidenced  on  his  second  coming  the  same  devotion 
as  at  the  first ;  and  unshaken  in  their  fidelity  when 
defeated,  and  plunging  the  country  in  wretchedness 
in  consequence,  suing  with  unmanly  tears  and  false 
protestations  by  his  letters  from  Eingwood  for  mercy, 
and  by  abject  humiliation  at  the  feet  of  his  uncle 
for  pardon,  in  London,  he  was  still  in  their  mind's 
eye  their  idolized  Duke  of  Monmouth,  still  living, 
though  believed  dead,  and  reigning  in  their  hearts 
king  of  their  fealty  and  deepest  affection. 

A  fearful  instance  of  the  strength  of  their  at- 
tachment was  given  in  the  hatred  it  occasioned  to 
the  woman  and  her  family  which  followed  her  in- 
formation of  Monmouth's  hiding-place,  when  fleeing 
from  his  pursuers.  From  that  hour  they  were  a 
marked  and  doomed  race.  No  one  employed,  no 
one  associated  with  her  or  her  family ;  and  depen- 
dant as  they  were  upon  the  labor  of  their  hands,  for 
their  support,  their  subsistence  became  at  last  so  pre- 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  201 

carious,  that  they  were  obliged  to  beg  their  bread. 
The  cottage  they  once  owned  fell  into  decay ;  and 
insulted  wherever  they  were,  hated  and  despised, 
their  lives  ever  after  became  a  burden  and  a  curse, 
which  generation  after  generation  inherited,  in  which 
both  father  and  son  were  made  but  too  deeply  to  par- 
ticipate. So  late  as  the  reign  of  George  the  Third 
the  belief  that  Monmouth  had  escaped  the  hands 
of  the  executioner  was  most  pertinaciously  perse- 
vered in.  A  formal  refutation  of  the  idea,  published 
in  the  Gazette  of  France,  by  Voltaire,  is  said  to  have 
silenced  it ;  though  it  is  far  more  likely,  in  our  esti- 
mation, that  time  alone  consigned  him  to  the  dust, 
when  his  threescore  years  and  ten  had  laid  waste 
the  energies  that  once  glowed  so  brightly  in  their 
eyes,  and  stilled  a  heart  which  they  believed  beat 
only  for  the  good  of  others. 

The  Duchess  of  Monmouth  long  mourned  her 
husband,  but  her  grief  eventually  subsided,  and 
happiness  beamed  once  more  from  her  sparkling 
eyes.  The  cause  of  years  of  anxiety  and  sorrow 
had  been  removed,  and  although  deprived  of  the 
husband  of  her  youth,  she  had  not  now  to  feel  that 
it  was  love  to  another  which  caused  her  desolation. 
He  was  dead,  and  her  children  were  fatherless,  but 
hopes  of  his  heavenly  joy  softened  the  anguish  of 
their  separation.  A  few  months  after  saw  her  cheer- 
ful and  partaking  life's  innocent  pleasures,  with  all 
the  enjoyment  natural  to  her  age,  and  apparently 
10 


202  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

rejoicing  in  that  great  political  change  which  deli- 
vered England  from  the  rule  of  the  tyrant  James, 
and  avenged  the  wrongs  of  thousands  whose  hearts 
he  had  caused  to  bleed  with  hopeless  anguish. 

But  leaving  the  courts  of  royalty  for  awhile  be- 
hind, we  will  glance  for  a  short  time  towards  the 
seat  of  Sir  Thomas  "Wentworth  Toddington,  Bed- 
fordshire. Monmouth's  imprisonment  had  caused 
the  immediate  return  of  Lady  Wentworth  to  Eng- 
land, and  her  fond  parents,  with  forgiveness  in  their 
hearts,  had  welcomed  her  to  their  arms  and  to  their 
house,  as  the  father  had  done  to  the  prodigal  son, 
in  Holy  Writ,  and  killed  the  fatted  calf  in  token  of 
the  joy  they  experienced  of  seeing  her  once  more 
safe  beneath  their  roof.  The  past  was  forgotten,  and 
the  future  they  trusted  would  yet  atone  for  all  the 
anguish  her  erring  life  had  cost  them.  Beautifu  lin 
her  anguish  and  apparent  repentance,  throwing  her- 
-eelf  at  her  parents'  feet,  she  promised  everything. 
After  Monmouth's  execution  his  servant  brought 
the  tooth-pick  which  his  master  bequeathed,  in  his 
last  moments,  to  her  who  evidently  shared  his  last 
affections.  She  received  it  from  his  hands,  pressed 
it  wildly  to  her  bosom,  and  from  that  hour  declined 
rapidly  away. 

In  vain  were  the  lessons  of  duty  poured  into  her 
ear,  of  yielding  to  feelings  evidently  so  sinful  and 
displeasing  in  the  sight  of  God ;  nothing  could  rouse 
her  from  the  melancholy  into  which  she  sank ;  often 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  203 

weeping  and  exclaiming  in  the  anguish  of  an-  up- 
braiding conscience,  that  it  was  all  her  doing ;  that 
but  for  her  entreaties  he  never  would  have  joined 
in  the  rebellion  a  second  time ;  or  bartered  peace  in 
endeavors  to  gain  a  throne  but  for  the  ambitious 
wishes  she  had  expressed  of  seeing  him  king,  and 
sharing  his  royal  honors  with  him.  Her  constant 
self-reproaches  and  her  grief  at  length  did  their 
work.  Consumption  laid  her  chilly  grasp  on  that 
once  blooming  and  lovely  form,  and  ere  the  spring- 
blossoms  had  burst  forth,  and  the  early  foliage  deck- 
ed the  groves  with  their  promised  beauty,  one  who 
might  have  been  an  ornament  to  her  sex  was  borne 
to  her  tomb,  followed  by  her  still  idolizing  but 
heart-broken  parents,  who  were  now  childless,  and 
whose  desolate  halls  could  no  more  echo  back  the 
sounds  of  that  voice  whose  music  had  constituted 
the  sole  joy  of  their  lives.  She  was  buried  in  the 
transept  of  the  village  church  of  Toddington,  the  i 
ancient  burial-place  of  the  Wentworths.  Her  pa- 
rents erected  a  costly  monument  over  her  remains, 
which  stood  for  years  a  melancholy  memento  of  the 
past.  But  in  the  stately  park  of  Sir  Thomas,  a  tree 
bearing  her  name  carved  on  its  bark  by  the  hand  of 
him  she  loved  "  not  wisely,  but  too  well,"  while  on  a 
visit — wandering  through  its  ample  grounds — formed 
a  memorial,  over  which  many  a  sad  heart  wept  and 
mourned  the  fate  of  two  so  gifted,  so  beloved,  so  mis- 
gidedand  so  unfortunate.  The  characters  were  dis- 


204  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

cernable  till  within  a  few  years  past,  and  the  noble 
trees  till  waves  in  loveliness  and  strength  over  the 
place  on  which  stood  these  once  young,  happy,  and 
hopeful  beings. 

We  might  write  volumes  on  the  retribution 
which  certainly  follows  crime.  But  to  the  good  and 
virtuous  it  is  unnecessary,  and  to  those  in  whose 
minds  the  angel  voice  of  principle  is  hushed  and 
still,  it  would  be  a  vain  and  superfluous  task.  The 
lessons  we  daily  and  hourly  receive  are  fraught 
with  meaning,  and  convince  us  that  God's  ways  are 
just. 

As  Lady  Wentworth's  dust  mingled  with  her 
ancestors,  that  of  Monmouth  mouldered  beside 
many  illustrious  personages,  and  many  who,  like 
himself,  were  borne  to  their  last  resting-place  for  real 
or  imputed  crimes.  Such  as  leaders  of  parties,  whom 
their  talents  had  raised  to  the  highest  senatorial  dis- 
tinctions, and  made  them  the  favorites  of  courts  and 
the  chosen  friends  of  kings.  For  these  very  gifts 
enmity  had  plotted  and  effected  their  ruin ;  and  the 
axe  of  the  executioner  cut  short  the  glittering  path 
of  fame. 

St.  Peter's  Chapel  is  a  spot  which  every  reflect- 
ing mind  regards  with  fearful  and  almost  awful  in- 
terest. Beneath  its  costly  monuments  lie  so  many 
whose  fate  recalls  the  melancholy  history  of  the  past, 
so  much  of  sorrow  and  suffering,  so  much  of  the 
abuse  of  power,  and  the  dark  deeds  of  insatiable 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  205 

ambition,  that  the  heart  sickens  'neath  a  calendar 
where  every  feeling  sacred  to  humanity  has  been 
outraged,  social  and  religious  ties  rudely  sundered, 
and  all  the  sweetest  charities  of  our  nature  trampled 
in  the  dust. 

The  Tower  of  London  will  always  carry  with 
it  associations  of  horror,  for  instinctively  with  its 
name  arises  thoughts  of  the  cruelties  which  have 
been  perpetrated  there.  Here  the  two  young  princes 
were  murdered,  here  noblemen  have  been  dragged, 
without  one  real  offence  to  either  their  country  or 
their  fellow-man.  Here  the  meek  and  pious  Lady 
Jane  Grey  was  importuned  by  the  prelates  of  Pope- 
ry, and  witnessed  from  her  window  the  bleeding 
body  of  her  husband,  as  the  rough  hands  of  the 
jailers  consigned  him  to  the  Tower  Chapel.  Edward 
Seymour,  Duke  of  Somerset,  Protector  of  the  Eealm, 
reposes  in  his  last  sleep  beside  the  brother  whom  he 
so  relentlessly  murdered.  Here  also  lie  two  queens, 
who  were  the  victims  of  the  jealous  Henry,  and  the 
gentle  victim  of  others'  ambition,  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
sleeps  beside  them.  Essex,  the  favorite  of  royalty, 
distinguished  for  talents,  learning,  beauty,  and  ac- 
complishments, was  consigned  to  an  ignominious 
tomb,  guiltless  of  any  real  crime,  a  sad  sacrifice  to 
woman's  petulance  and  exacting  humor.  And  be- 
side those  already  enumerated,  the  grave  of  many 
a  nobleman  and  statesman  lie  thick  around,  reading 
their  silent  but  eloquent  lessons  to  the  hearts  of  be- 


206  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

holders,  on  the  fragile  tenure  of  all  earthly  distinc- 
tion, and  the  uncertainty  of  the  favors  and  gifts  of 
kings,  whose  promises  pass  like  the  hour,  and 
whose  favoritism,  like  the  roses  reign  in  summer, 
oft  fade  with  every  breath  of  change,  leaving  in  its 
stead  the  thorns  of  malice,  hatred  and  implacable 
revenge  for  real  or  fancied  wrongs.  Beside  these 
Monmouth  lies,  adding  his  melancholy  fate  to  those 
who  had  gone  before  him ;  another  dark  page  to  the 
history  of  the  past,  and  another  fearful  comment  on 
the  times  in  which  he  lived,  when  power  was  sub- 
verted to  the  vilest  of  purposes,  the  spread  of  mise- 
ry, discontent,  and  crime. 

The  place  where  Monmouth  was  found,  when 
taken  in  the  enclosure  in  Somersetshire,  has  been 
visited  by  thousands ;  and  to  this  day  it  is  shown  to 
people  visiting  that  part  of  the  country,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  interest  that  no  time  or  circumstance  have 
been  able  to  lessen.  His  amiable  bearing,  and  devo- 
tion to  what  was  believed  the  sole  good  of  the  peo- 
ple, constituted  a  sacrifice  becoming  the  hero  they  so 
long  sincerely  and  deeply  mourned.  The  estate 
where  this  enclosure  stands,  belongs  to  the  present 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  a  relative  of  one  of  Monmouth's 
early  confederates,  whose  servant,  in  pointing  out  its 
locality,  never  fails  to  pour  forth  his  eulogium  on 
the  unfortunate  duke,  and  to  cite  the  love  and  admi- 
ration with  which  his  name  is  coupled  by  the  coun- 
try people  around ;  and  to  relate  the  almost  romantio 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  207 

and  idolatrous  fondness  with  which  his  memory  was 
cherished  throughout. 

After  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor,  the  relics  of  some 
portions  of  his  apparel  were  found  by  the  farmers  of 
that  time ;  and,  though  merely  consisting  of  a  rib- 
bon, a  shoe-buckle,  or  a  button,  they  were  treasured 
by  their  owners  with  a  fondness  scarcely  credible 
while  living,  and  when  they  died,  their  last  request 
was  frequently  to  have  'them  placed  beside  them  in 
their  coffins.  One  was  preserved  from  this  fate,  and 
is  still  kept  as  a  most  precious  possession  by  a  woman 
residing  in  a  house  which  overlooked  the  battle-field 
of  Sedgemoor.  It  consisted  of  a  gold  thread  button, 
which  descended  to  the  present  owner  by  her  father, 
who  fought  with  the  good  duke  to  the  very  last,  as 
he  is  emphatically  called  in  those  districts,  where 
every  cottage  has  its  tale  to  tell  of  that  memorable 
time ;  and  where  the  eye  becomes  dilated  with  de- 
light, and  the  tongue  most  eloquent,  as  it  describes 
his  heartfelt  devotion  to  his  country's  good,  which 
they  believed,  and  still  continue  to  believe,  was  the 
sole  motive  of  all  his  actions.  Earely  has  it  ever 
fallen  to  the  lot  of  mortal  to  be  so 

"Beloved  in  life, 

"  So  lamented  in  death  " 

as  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  ;  and,  though  the  discri- 
minating historian  places  his  virtues  and  vices  in 
their  true  light,  all  who  have  read  his  history  will 


208  BRITISH      REBELLIOK. 

deplore  the  too  amiable  docility  of  his  character, 
which,  while  it  secured  to  him  the  affection  of  a 
people  unprecedented  and  unequalled  in  any  of  the 
annals  of  a  former  or  after  generation,  also  hurried 
him  into  a  measure  which  sealed  not  only  his  own 
destruction,  but  that  of  others,  whose  only  fault  was 
a  blind  devotion  to  the  hero  of  their  brightest 
dreams  and  highest  aspirations. 


CHAPTER   X. 


Having  narrated  the  eventful  history  of  the  Eng* 
lish  Rebellion,  we  will  turn  to  the  Scottish  Insurrec- 
tion of  the  same  period,  under  the  command  of  the 
Earl  of  Argyle,  as  James'  principles  and  religion 
produced  the  same  dissatisfaction  in  both  nations. 
The  Scots  had  been  rendered  desperate  under  the 
extortions  of  Charles ;  and  now  they  were  still  more 
to  be  oppressed  by  the  brother,  who  would  not  only 
carry  out  the  measures  of  the  late  monarch,  but  add 
to  them  the  whims  and  caprices  of  an  unfeeling  and 
bigotted  tyrant.  But  the  Scots  had  too  much  pride 
to  identify  themselves  in  their  grievances  with  an 
English  leader;  and,  selecting  MacCullum  More, 
Earl  of  Argyle,  proceeded  to  organize  their  forces 
for  the  invasion  of  Scotland. 

Many  Scotch  fugitives  had  taken  refuge  on  the 
Continent  during  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second, 
having  been  driven  thither  by  the  intemperate  zeal 
of  religious  and  political  reformers ;  whose  excesses 
had  been  excited  by  the  oppressive  nature  of  the 
government  and  the  restraint  to  which  it  subjected 
them. 

J0» 


210  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

When  Charles  died,  and  James  ascended  the 
throne,  they  met;  and,  in  conjunction  with  Mon- 
mouth,  determined  to  commence  hostilities  in  Scot- 
land. Amsterdam  was  the  place  of  general  assem- 
blage for  both  Scotch  and  English ;  and  here  their 
plans  were  formed  for  ultimate  action.  At  first,  a 
general  feeling  prevailed,  that,  as  hatred  of  James 
formed  the  leading  feature  of  discontent  among  them 
all,  they  would  unite  in  one  common  cause  to  deprive 
him  of  the  throne.  But  Argyle's  pride  took  offence 
at  once,  when  Monmouth's  high  claims  were  set 
forth ;  and  he  determined  to  individualize  his  own 
cause  and  pretensions,  as  the  leader  of  his  country- 
men and  the  avenger  and  deliverer  of  his  country. 

Archibald,  Earl  of  Argyle,  was  the  son  of  the 
Marquis  of  Argyle,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Scotch 
Covenanters  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  to 
whose  ruin  he  is  said  to  have  greatly  contributed. 
By  the  royalists,  therefore,  he  was  hated,  and  though 
he  acknowledged  Charles  the  Second  as  king,  and 
consented  to  his  inhabiting  Holy  rood  house  as  his 
prison,  the  remembrance  of  the  past  still  lingered  on 
the  minds  of  the  royal  family ;  and,  when  Charles 
was  quietly  seated  on  the  throne  of  England,  both 
prudence  and  revenge  caused  him  to  be  put  to  death ; 
by  which  means  the  title  of  marquis  was  cut  off',  and 
his  son  only  permitted  to  inherit  the  earldom  of  his 
ancestors.  Still  he  was  one  of  the  first  of  Scottish 
noblemen,  and  held  a  high  rank  among  his  country- 


f  * 

**. 

BRITISH      REBELLION.  211 

men ;  though  by  many  he  was  thought  to  have  taken 
his  father's  death  in  too  quiescent  a  spirit,  as  during 
the  first  twenty  years  of  Charles  the  Second's  reign, 
not  a  single  murmur  at  the  administration  had  been 
suffered  to  escape  him,  whatever  his  feelings  might 
have  been.  But  he  had  looked  on,  and  seen  the  af- 
flictions and  oppressions  of  his  beloved  country,  and 
would  gladly  have  rushed  to  the  rescue,  but  his  fa- 
ther's fate  withheld  him  from  offering  anything  but 
conciliatory  advice.  This  precautionary  spirit  greatly 
displeased  the  Presbyterians,  as  it  had  been  carried 
even  into  the  church  ;  and,  when  their  religious  pri- 
vileges Vere  abridged,  and  their  most  sacred  feelings 
violated,  Argyle  was  still  the  dull  looker-on,  the  still 
indifferent  spectator  to  all  the  oppressions  that  were 
heaped  upon  them.  Their  astonishment  was  still 
more  excited,  when  the  Covenanters,  for  whom  his 
father  so  bravely  fought,  being  at  length  persecuted 
into  an  open  rebellion,  he  summoned  all  the  forces 
he  could  command,  of  his  own  people,  to  assist  the 
government  in  subduing  it 

This  conduct  of  Argyle  led  the  king  and  his  bro- 
ther James,  the  Duke  of  York,  to  imagine  he  could 
easily  be  led  to  espouse  any  measure  they  might 
choose  to  propose.  To  this  end  the  duke  was  sent 
to  Edinburgh,  bearing  the  king's  authority,  in  order 
to  the  entire  subjugation  of  the  Scotch  Presbyterians 
to  Episcopacy  ;  as,  notwithstanding  Charles'  careless 
and  forgiving  temper,  the  remembrance  of  the  insults 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 

he  had  once  received  at  their  hands,  now  that  a  way 
was  opened,  he  determined,  with  their  chief  assist- 
ance, to  pursue,  to  gratify  the  revengeful  feelings  he 
still  entertained  towards  his  old  enemies.  But  he 
had  reckoned  too  surely  on  Argyle.  Cautious  as  he 
had  hitherto  been,  and  in  the  last  instance  publicly 
avowing  his  devotion  to  the  government  j  when  this 
wholesale  measure  was  proposed,  he  rejected  it  with 
a  bravery  and  sincerity  becoming  a  man,  and  utterly 
refused  to  aid  the  Duke  of  York  in  a  measure  so  un- 
just and  so  causelessly  oppressive.  This  resistance 
nearly  cost  him  his  life.  His  opposition  to  the  wishes 
of  his  sovereign  was  at  once  followed  by  an  indict- 
ment, and  a  resolution  formed,  that  if  he  continued 
to  do  so,  he  should  be  sentenced  to  death.  Argyle 
was  firm.  A  trial  was,  therefore,  instituted,  and  on 
grounds  which  had  no  antecedent  for  frivolity,  he 
was  condemned  for  treason,  and  sentenced  to  be  ex- 
ecuted. 

This  shameful  conduct  towards  the  unoffending 
earl  excited  the  highest  disgust,  and  several  noble- 
men declared  against  it  in  no  measured  terms.  But 
the  sentence  received  no  revoke  ;  and  without  either 
suing  for  mercy,  or  offering  any  of  his  broad  lands 
in  payment  of  pardon,  which  some  time  after  was 
shown  would  have  been  but  too  gladly  received, 
Argyle  managed  to  escape  to  England,  disguised  as 
a  peasant,  from  which  he  embarked  for  Friesland, 
where  his  father  had  purchased  a  small  estate  for  the 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  213 

purpose  of  a  place  of  refuge  for  his  family,  in  case  of 
emergency,  from  those  civil  dissensions  which  had 
marked  his  own  time. 

The  purchase  of  an  estate  in  that  secluded  pro- 
vince, was  owing  to  a  circumstance  connected  with 
the  superstitious  feeling  which  is  so  deeply  inwoven 
with  the  Scottish  character.  Every  highland  chief 
in  those  days  had  his  seer  attached  to  his  ancestral 
domain;  one  who,  gifted  with  second  sight,  could 
behold  in  visions  the  future  joys  and  sorrows  of  his 
ancient  house.  To  the  Marquis  of  Argyle  there  was 
a  prophecy  given,  that  his  son  would,  after  he  was 
dead,  be  obliged  to  fly  from  Scotland,  and  the  home 
of  his  fathers,  from  those  who  sought  his  life. 

Whether  his  political  sagacity  saw  into  the  state  of 
the  future,  and  thus  provided  himself  against  it,  or 
whether  he  was  influenced  by  the  vision  of  the  seer 
in  this  purchase,  is  not  distinctly  known.  But  this  is 
certain,  that  the  Marquis'  son  found  in  Friesland  the 
hiding-place  he  needed,  and  escaped  the  death  to  which 
his  enemies  had  devoted  him.  Here  he  lived  quietly 
for  some  time,  corresponding  with  his  friends  in 
Great  Britain,  and  entering  into  a  conspiracy  with 
the  chiefs  of  the  whig  party  for  invading  his  country ; 
looked  with  confidence  towards  an  event  which  he 
trusted  would  atone  for  the  injustice  he  had  received 
at  the  hands  of  Charles. 

The  discovery  of  the  Rye-house  Plot  ended  all  the 
plans  he  and  others  had  formed  for  a  while,  but  when 


214  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

the  king  died  another  invasion  was  planned,  and 
hopes  for  Scotland  and  revenge  filled  Argyle's  heart. 
Archibald  Argyle's  character  was  one  which  few 
understood.  To  observers  generally  he  appeared 
calm  and  dispassionate,  with  little  of  that  enthusiasm 
which  marks  bold  and  energetic  minds.  Every 
thought  and  action  seemed  the  result  of  forethought 
and  reflection,  and  every  ready  and:  fearless  impulse 
to  be  schooled  into  the  complete  subjection  of  a  cool 
and  mature  judgment.  Argyle's  actions  on  all  occa- 
sions strengthened  this  popular  belief,  and  up  to  the 
time  "of  his  joining  the  government  in  arms  against 
the  Puritans,  the  respect  and  veneration  with  which 
he  was  regarded  was  greater  than  that  of  any  other 
nobleman  in  Scotland.  His  retainers  were  nume- 
rous, and  his  domain,  surrounding  his  highland 
castle,  stretched  far  and  wide  over  the  wild  and  rug- 
ged grandeur  of  towering  mountains  and  headlong 
torrents,  rock  and  glen,  forest  and  waterfall.  While 
fields  made  rich  by  the  careful  husbandman's  thrifty 
toils,  secured  to  his  barns  and  granaries  all  the  abun- 
dance of  a  lord  of  the  soil,  and  imparted  a  patriarchal 
influence  to  his  position  which  extended  far  beyond 
the  immediate  precincts  of  his  own  demesne.  By 
the  laws  of  the  crown  he  was  now  deprived  of  his 
possessions  by  the  attainder;  yet,  such  was  his 
popularity,  such  the  deep  interest  with  which  all 
ranks  regarded  him,  that  at  any  time,  by  his  pre- 
sence alone,  he  could  command  a  powerful  army, 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 

and  raise  a  civil  war  among  a  people  whose  fierce 
impulsive  natures  had  been  subdued  into  admiration 
for  those  very  opposite  features  he  possessed  to  such 
perfection  in  their  eyes.  Added  to  these  were  a 
handsome  and  prepossessing  exterior,  a  noble,  manly 
form,  and  a  countenance,  bearing  on  its  fine  linea- 
ments a  high  cast  of  thought,  yet  often  blent  with  a 
sad  and  pensive  meaning  which  never  vented  itself 
in  words,  yet,  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  beheld  him, 
carried  the  conviction  of  a  soul  alive  to  the  tenderest 
emotions  of  our  natures,  springing,  as  they  knew  it 
did,  from  the  grief  which  the  memory  of  his  father's 
death  had  enshrined  there. 

To  this  circumstance  they  felt  was  owing  all  the 
prudence  and  caution  which  had  marked  his  life, 
and  they  honored  him  for  the  motive  while  they 
condemned  the  act.  He  was  now  in  exile  from  his 
country  and  his  people,  but  one  shout  echoing  from 
the  mountain  passes,  and  reverberating  through  the 
dells,  that  he  approached  their  borders,  would  be 
answered  by  thousands  of  enthusiastic  hearts,  ready, 
if  needs  be,  to  die  in  his  cause,  and  follow  whither- 
soever he  led. 

While  in  exile  Argyle  had  devoted  himself  to  a 
careful  retrospection  of  his  past  life.  His  father's 
life  was  a  forfeit  to  his  attachment  to  the  Puritans. 
Their  religion  was  Presbyterian,  but  he  had  sum- 
moned his  forces  in  aid  of  Episcopacy.  He  con- 
stantly reproached  himself  for  doing  this,  and  yield- 


216  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

ing  to  fear  what  his  judgment  had  so  entirely  con- 
demned. He  strictly  examined  himself,  and  in  the 
sincerity  of  his  conscience  resolved,  should  an  oppor- 
tunity offer,  to  vindicate  the  true  nature  of  his  feel- 
ings by  an  active  zeal  and  a  constant  persevering 
aim  in  removing  the  burden  from  his  countrymen, 
and  the  stigma  which  this  one  unsanctified  act  had 
attached  to  his  character.  In  solitude  our  moods 
are  always  in  extremes.  With  nothing  to  keep  up 
a  uniform  exercise  of  the  various  faculties  of  the 
mind;  one  idea,  incessantly  dwelt  on,  produces  a  sort 
of  monomania,  and  often  assumes  dictatorship  of  all 
its  other  attributes,  coloring  future  events  with  those 
deep  day-dreams  of  soul  and  spirit,  on  which  are 
concentrated  all  the  hope  and  energy  which  despair 
calls  to  her  wretched  rescue.  Argyle  turned  from 
fighting  against  the  Puritans  to  supporting  them,  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  other  sects.  A  determination  at 
once  bigoted,  intolerant,  and  absurd. 

His  fellow-exiles,  now  that  Charles  was  dead, 
turned  at  once  towards  the  man,  of  all  others,  they 
chose  for  a  leader,  with  a  few  exceptions ;  and  even 
these  few  acknowledged  and  wished  to  avail  them- 
selves of  the  power  they  knew  him  to  possess,  with- 
out owning  him  as  their  head.  These  malcontents 
formed  themselves  into  a  distinct  band,  under  the 
auspices^of  Patrick  Hume,  of  Polwarth,  in  Berwick- 
shire, a  lowland  gentleman  who  had  participated  in 
the  whig  plot,  and  narrowly  earned  with  his  life. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  217 

Brooding  over  his  fate,  like  Argyle,  had  led  him 
also  to  the  adoption  of  measures,  if  an  opportunity 
offered,  where  he  would  avenge  himself  upon  his 
enemies,  but  not  like  him,  from  those  pure  and  con- 
scientious motives  which  had  religion  for  its  basis 
and  end.  Ambition  and  revenge  spurred  Hume  on 
in  his  wild  determination  of  resisting  the  claims  of 
Argyle.  Meetings  were  therefore  constantly  held, 
when  he  rallied  around  him  men  who  listened  to  his 
schemes,  and  his  long  and  almost  endless  speeches, 
full  of  obscurity  to  them,  and  without  one  clear  idea ; 
but  judging  him  by  the  past,  for  he  had  been  sin- 
cere, they  yielded  a  quiescent  belief  that  all  was  right. 
There  was  another  who  sided  with  him,  of  precisely 
similar  views,  Sir  John  Cochrane ;  but  Argyle's  well 
known  integrity  of  character,  and  justness  of  princi- 
ple, prevailed  over  the  false  gloss  with  which  Hume 
and  his  confederate  tried  to  invest  their  claims  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Scottish  people. 

Hume  and  Cochrane's  example  was  followed  by 
yet  another  burning  for  the  lustre  of  distinction,  as 
the  deliverance  of  his  country  from  the  pangs  of  op- 
pression and  tyranny.  This  was  Andrew  Fletcher 
of  Saltown.  A  man  who  ranked  high  for  his  intel- 
lectual attainments,  his  generous  and  intrepid  spirit, 
his  love  of  liberty,  his  wide  and  diffusive  philan- 
thropy, his  extended  views  for  the  amelioration  of 
the  miseries  of  his  species,  and  the  promotion  of  uni- 
versal happiness.  His  oratory,  when  addressing  the 


218  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

people,  embodying  such  sentiments,  therefore  ren- 
dered him  an  object  of  general  admiration  and 
interest.  He  advocated  true  republican  principles, 
without  possessing  a  shadow  of  the  spirit  of  demo- 
cracy. Disgusted,  like  Milton,  Sidney,  and  many 
others  of  his  contemporaries,  with  the  characters  of 
those  whom  power  and  accident  of  birth  had  made 
rulers,  he  advocated  that  plans  of  high  trust  should 
be  awarded  to  men  only  whose  talents,  learning,  and 
virtue  fitted  them  for  such  important  offices.  He 
was  opposed  to  monarchy  in  all  its  forms,  and  yet  in 
his  writings  he  proved  himself  one  of  the  veriest  of 
despots,  actually  publishing  a  work  in  which  he  pro- 
posed a  plan  for  reducing  the  majority  of  the  Scot- 
tish peasantry  to  slavery  and  degradation,  his  free- 
born  countrymen  to  a  state  of  bondage  which  sub- 
jected them  to  the  scourge  of  the  overseer  and  the 
hammer  of  the  auctioneer. 

His  ideas  of  government,  while  they  deprecated 
sovereign  power  in  its  generally  received  sense,  up- 
held an  arbitrary  state  of  things,  far  more  oppressive 
and  inimical  to  the  public  good  than  any  monarchy 
could  or  had  ever  yet  been.  Superiority  of  mind  and 
intellect  were  the  only  attributes  that  should  claim 
or  dispense  power,  in  his  estimation  ;  and,  like  the 
Romans,  who  presided  in  the  senate,  he  argued  that 
the  multitude,  in  their  ignorance,  were  unable  to  be 
ruled  by  any  other  means  than  the  lash  and  the 
stocks,  and  preserved  in  a  state  of  tranquillity  only 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  \  219 

t  \ 

by  fear  of  their  superiors.  His  theory  at  present  was 
free  from  these  unpopular  and  odious  views,  and 
only  aimed  at  striking  for  freedom  from  oppression 
and  the  rule  of  kings.  Such  sentiments,  as  was  na- 
tural, gained  him  much  favor  with  a  people  so  deeply 
galled  by  the  fetters  of  monarchy ;  but,  tempting 
as  was  the  bait  thus  offered  to  their  hungry  maws, 
they  paused  ere  they  swallowed  it,  and,  while  doing 
so,  saw  the  shadow  of  the  glittering  hook  through 
what  appeared  the  tempting  morsel,  but  which,  in. 
reality,  contained  the  weapon  of  death.  They  re- 
flected still  more,  yet,  without  deciding;  but  the 
balance  of  power  being  on  Argyle's  side,  it  was  at 
length  agreed  upon,  that  he  should  be  nominated 
their  leader,  under  certain  subjections  and  conditions, 
which,  in  their  short-sightedness,  caused  the  destruc- 
tion of  all  the  wishes  they  indulged,  and  all  the  plans 
they  had  formed. 

Where  so  many  contended  for  the  post  of  honor, 
and  thought  their  claims  on  an  equal,  it  was  difficult 
to  yield  all  to  one,  whom,  they  considered,  boasted 
no  superiority  in  point  of  either  generalship  or  intel- 
lect. His  influence  was  the  ground  of  his  prefer- 
ment ;  in  this  no  other  man  could  in  any  way  ap- 
proach him.  He  could  at  any  day  command  more 
than  five  thousand  men  accustomed  to  arms,  who,  in 
the  use  of  the  target  and  sword,  could  defy  superi- 
ority ;  and  whose  brave,  athletic  forms  and  fearless 
spirits  would  bound  at  their  leader's  call,  and  rush  to 


220  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

the  struggle  for  victory  with  all  the  energetic  glow 
of  their  chivalrous  and  devoted  hearts. 

The  hazardous  cause  which  they  all  concurred 
in  being  necessary,  thoughts  such  as  these,  we  would 
have  supposed,  'would  at  once  have  secured  to  Argyle 
the  uncontrolled  power  which  a  leader  should  always 
possess.  Not  one  of  Monmouth's  followers  hesitated 
to  invest  him  with  this  attribute  of  his  position ;  but 
the  Scots,  hating  and  envying  Argyle's  elevation 
above  themselves,  resolved  to  check,  by  every  means 
in  their  power,  this  delegation  of  trust,  which  they 
determined  should  extend  no  farther  than  actual  be- 
nefit to  themselves  should  warrant,  and  where  no- 
thing to  himself,  under  any  circumstances,  should  be 
obtained.  As  their  tool,  in  the  form  of  their  leader, 
he  was  to  bring  all  that  his  own  individual  merit  had 
gained  for  him,  to  benefit  the  sordid  interests  of  men 
whose  claims  his  trusty  followers  would  have  des- 
pised, as  much  as  they  loved  and  admired  the  single- 
heartedness,  unsullied  integrity  of  principle,  and 
shining  virtues  of  MacCullum  More — the  idol  of  his 
clan,  and  the  hero  of  thousands  of  devoted  Highland 
hearts  beyond  it. 

To  this  arrangement  Argyle  was  forced  to  sub- 
mit ;  and  a  committee  was  formed  to  check  any 
measure  which  they  might  not  approve, — also,  to 
superintend  all  the  movements  of  the  army,  its  ex- 
penditures, points  of  location,  and  scenes  of  action. 
Unrestrained  and  individual  power,  therefore,  was 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  221 

out  of  the  question ;  and  a  leader,  in  such  circum- 
stances, might  not  unaptly  be  compared  to  an  eagle 
bounding  forward  in  his  bold  and  upward  flight 
towards  the  sun,  his  eye  undimmed  by  its  bright- 
ness, and  undazzled  by  its  lustrous  beams,  joyously 
and  eagerly  performing  its  journey,  till  in  its  soar- 
ings higher  and  higher,  with  its  glorious  object  in 
view,  quickening  his  energies  and  exciting  his  glow- 
ing ardor,  he  suddenly  feels  his  fetters ;  feels  his 
course  is  limited,  and  his  way  bounded,  and  with 
hopes  so  rudely  checked,  and  prospects  of  attaining 
his  object -so  entirely  cut  off,  he  sinks  lower  and 
lower,  till  with  paralysed  energies  his  efforts  fail, 
and  all  ambition  fails. 

A  leader  should  have  his  bright  object  in  view ; 
the  sun  illumining  his  mental  and  moral  vision  to 
which  he  aims  to  reach ;  to  which  his  steps  unfetter- 
ed climb  and  soar,  while  the  mountain  steep  and 
the  headlong  torrent  form  no  barrier  to  the  strong 
and  bounding  spirit  within,  no  impediment  to  the 
glorious  object  seen  in  all  its  glowing  brightness  be- 
yond. So  Napoleon  felt. 

Every  preliminary  being  at  length  settled,  Ar- 
gyle's  position  being,  as  they  deemed,  satisfactorily 
agreed  upon,  and  the  check-strings  bound  sufficiently 
strong,  it  was  resolved  that  a  descent  should  be  made 
upon  Scotland  without  delay. 

Preparations  were  at  once,  therefore,  made  for 
the  departure  of  the  exiles,  and  three  vessels  equipped 


222  BRITISH    REBELLION. 

with  arms,  ammunition,  and  provisions,  were  soon  in 
readiness.  The  British  minister  took  no  notice  of 
these  doings  further  than  to  send  to  the  magistrates 
of  Amsterdam  to  ask  what  those  ships  were  doing 
in  the  Zuyder  Zee  ?  The  answer  was  a  conclusive 
evidence  that  either  they  were  swayed  by  indiffe- 
rence, or  partiality  to  Argyle.  They  merely  replied 
that  the  Zuyder  Zee  was  out  of  their  jurisdiction, 
and  that  interrogatories  would  be  better  applied  to 
a  higher  power,  naming  the  government.  This  care- 
lessness, from  whatever  cause  it  proceeded,  favored 
Argyle's  departure ;  and  one  thing  was*  clearly  ex- 
pressed by  it,  that  no  wish  existed  to  frustrate  any 
designs  he  might  have  formed.  The  three  vessels 
containing  the  Scotch  exiles  sailed  quietly  out  of 
port,  although  Argyle  suffered  tortures,  as  he  beheld 
near  his  fleet  a  Dutch  man-of-war,  whose  broad- 
side could  at  a  moment,  if  fired,  have  destroyed 
them  all.  A  boat  with  spies  on  board,  he  thought, 
rowed  round  and  round  them  ;  but  notwithstanding 
these  appearances,  no  efforts  were  made  to  arrest 
their  progress,  and  on  the  2d  of  May,  1685,  their 
little  fleet  was  scudding  before  a  favorable  breeze  on 
the  open  sea,  much  to  Argyle's  relief,  on  the  way  to 
Scotland. 


CHAPTE.B    XI. 


Two  Englishmen  were  appointed  to  accompany 
Argyle  as  his  immediate  advisers  and  counsellors. 
Bumbold  and  Ayloffe,  who  were,  like  himself,  pro- 
scribed whigs.  John  Ayloffe  was  a  lawyer,  distantly 
connected  with  James.  He  had  made  himself  con- 
spicuous by  a  singular  freak,  and  had  in  consequence 
been  an  object  of  dislike  to  the  government.  When 
the  Count  of  Versailles  had  gained  an  unlocked  for 
and  unexpected  triumph,  Ayloffe,  to  signify  his  ideas 
on  the  subject,  had  a  wooden  shoe  made  and  placed  in 
the  speaker's  chair  of  the  House  of  Commons,  indicat- 
ing by  that  significant  symbol  the  eventual  power  and 
tyranny  of  the  French  over  the  English.  This  simple 
but  expressive  act  greatly  displeased  the  govern- 
ment, and  rendered  Ayloffe  by  that  means  an  active 
and  determined  enemy  ever  after.  Kichard  Kumbold 
was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  in  forwarding  the 
Kye-house  Plot  for  the  murder  of  the  royal  brothers. 
In  this  plot  Ayloffe  had  engaged  heart  and  hand, 
and  at  its  discovery,  glad  to  escape  with  life,  he,  with 
the  others,  fled  to  the  Continent,  and  lived  in  seclu- 


224  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

sion  up  to  Charles'  death,  when  the  plan  of  a  rebel- 
lion was  gladly  and  eagerly  seized  upon  by  him  to 
attain,  if  possible  not  only  liberty  and  safety  in  his 
native  land,  but  revenge  on  those  for  whom  he  had 
suffered  so  much  already;  while  his  country  de- 
manded the  exertion  of  every  honest  man  in  her 
behalf,  to  aid  in  the  fall  of  James  and  popery. 

Andrew  Fletcher  was  to  accompany  Monmouth, 
but  though  he  would  have  been  glad  of  a  nomination 
as  leader  in  the  invasion  of  Scotland,  he  received  his 
appointment  to  go  with  the  duke  in  a  very  unsatis- 
factory and  sullen  mood.  With  all  the  natural  en- 
thusiasm of  his  character,  he  listened  to  the  plans 
formed  with  a  gloomy  and  distrustful  spirit.  Disap- 
pointed ambition  at  not  being  appointed  to  fill  Ar- 
gyle's  place,  was  the  cause  of  this  change  of  feeling. 
Others  saw  it  very  plainly,  though  he  himself  ima- 
gined it  completely  hid  within  his  own  breast,  and 
there  he  only  half  acknowledged  its  existence. 

Monmouth  and  Argyle  sailed  towards  their  des- 
tinations with  lively  hopes  of  success.  The  latter, 
whenever  his  spirits  nagged  and  failed,  was  borne  up 
by  Ayloffe's  and  Eumbold's  encouraging  arguments 
till  the  mountains  of  his  father-land  pierced  the  hori- 
zon, and  silently  welcomed  to  their  shores  one  whose 
project  hovered  in  the  future  between  two  extremes 
of  incalculable  moment — victory  or  death. 

The  place  selected  by  Argyle  for  disembarking 
was  Kirkwall,  where  he  allowed  two  of  his  followers 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  225 

to  go  on  shore  immediately  to  see  what  were  the 
feelings  of  the  inhabitants  towards  his  project. 

Rumors  of  an  invasion  had  been  floating  about 
for  several  weeks,  but  the  people  had  rejected  any 
belief  in  the  report.  Argyle's  sudden  appearance 
there,  therefore,  with  his  little  fleet,  and  those  men 
declaring  the  intentions  of  their  leader,  created  quite 
a  sensation  among  them.  The  bishop  of  the  dio- 
cese resided  at  Kirkwall,  and  on  hearing  the  sedi- 
tious intentions  of  Argyle,  determined  to  take 
active  measures  in  behalf  of  the  king  to  prevent 
it,  and  had  the  two  men  arrested  and  thrown  into 
prison. 

This  summary  proceeding  greatly  damped  the 
ardor  of  the  refugees,  and  holding  a  council  among 
themselves,  on  board  one  of  their  ships  off  the  coast, 
they  came  to  the  resolution  of  acting  with  a  high  and 
fearless  hand  in  the  matter,  to  show  the  good  bishop 
that  they  were  not  to  be  frightened  by  the  authority 
he  had  assumed,  and  the  loyalty  he  had  thought  pro^ 
per  to  express  against  their  exterprise.  As  is  gene- 
rally the  case,  however,  among  a  number  of  persons, 
there  was  a  great  division  of  opinion  among  them ; 
and  the  debate  was  carried  on  with  that  spirit  and 
energy  which  is  a  characteristic  of  the  Scotch.  They 
may  be  tame  and  irresolute  in  action,  languid,  indif- 
ferent, and  undecided  in  their  movements ;  but  in 
argument  and  controversy  all  the  enthusiasm  of  their 
characters  shine  forth.  Spirit,  soul,  and  energy  are 

11 


226  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

here  displayed,  their  whole  soul  is  in  their  words, 
and  the  poetic  temperament  which  their  mountain 
homes  so  emphatically  engenders,  on  occasions  like 
this,  burst  forth  with  an  eloquence  at  all  times  im- 
pressible, if  not  convincing.  .;_>•, 

Some  were  in  favor  of  commencing  an  attack  on 
Kirk  wall,  others  were  for  proceeding  to  Argyleshire, 
leaving  the  prisoners  in  durance.  Argyle  decided 
the  point  by  proposing  to  arrest  some  of  the  best 
inhabitants,  and  holding  them  in  custody  till  his  two 
followers  were  given  up.  There  was  a  general  and 
unanimous  agreement  to  this  proposal,  and  the  next 
day  a  band  proceeding  to  the  shore,  took  four  influ- 
ential persons,  residing  near  the  coast,  which  they 
confined  on  board  their  ships  until  the  two  men 
should  be  given  up.  This  movement  produced  the 
desired  effect.  Argyle's  men  were  made  free,  the 
gentlemen  whom  he  had  imprisoned  were  set  at  li- 
berty, and  in  three  days  from  their  entering  Kirk- 
wall,  Argyle  and  his  fleet  were  on  their  way  to  ano- 
ther port,  within  his  own  province. 

This  delay,  small  as  it  was,  was  very  unfavorable 
for  them.  The  news  of  a  rebel  force  having  an- 
chored at  the  Orkneys,  reached  Edinburgh  very 
soon,  through  the  Bishop  of  Kirk  wall ;  and  the  royal 
troops  were  called  out  to  make  preparations  for  a 
defence. 

The  English  government  had  also  been  made 
acquainted  with  the  steps  which  had  been  taken, 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  227 

though  not  the  particulars.  James  had  not  once 
thought  that  Monmouth  would  join  in  an  invasion 
of  England,  but  that  Argyle  should  rise  in  arms 
against  him  in  Scotland  gave  him  no  surprise.  And 
knowing  his  popularity  among  his  clansmen,  he 
looked  upon  him  as  a  most  formidable  enemy.  Im- 
mediate action  was  necessary;  a  proclamation  was 
therefore  made,  to  the  effect  that  Scotland  should  be 
put  in  readiness  for  defending  itself  against  the  in- 
cursions of  these  outlaws.  All  the  Highland  and 
Lowland  clans  who  were  hostile  to  the  dreaded 
name  of  MacCullum  More,  received  orders  to  display 
their  loyal  duty  to  their  king  by  assuming  arms 
against  the  rebel  chief.  The  Marquis  of  Athol  was 
commanded  to  muster  his  forces  to  defend  Argyle- 
shire,  and  station  himself  with  his  army  at  the  castle 
of  Inverary.  Several  who  were  known  to  be  at- 
tached to  Argyle,  without  having  acted  in  any  way 
offensive  to  the  government,  were  taken  up  and  cast 
into  prison.  Ships  of  war  were  also  seen  cruising 
about  the  coast,  near  the  Isle  of  Bute,  and  appear- 
ances everywhere  seemed  to  threaten  a  coming 
storm. 

Meanwhile  Argyle  had  reached  Argyleshire,  and 
great  was  his  consternation  to  find  a  spirit  of  resis- 
tance organized,  under  the  command  of  the  Marquis 
of  Athol,  awaited  him.  He  had  counted  much  on 
the  attachment  manifested  towards  him  while  a 
dweller  amongst  his  people,  but  these  warlike  prepa- 


228  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

rations  against  him  boded  no  good  he  thought.  He 
was  unprepared  for,  and  disconcerted  at  finding 
these  evidences  of  loyalty  to  a  sovereign  whom,  in 
heart  he  knew  they  despised.  But  the  object  which 
he  had  before  him  was  dear  to  his  soul,  and  McCul- 
lum  More  resolved  to  find  out,  as  speedily  as 
possible,  how  his  strength  lay  with  those  around 
him.  Before  he  landed  himself,  he  despatched  his 
son  Charles  on  shore  to  summon  the  Campbells  to 
his  standard,  and  to  take  up  arms  against  James. 
Charles  acted  on  his  father's  orders,  but  met  with  a 
far  different  reception  to  the  one  Argyle  had  so 
sanguinely  expected.  They  refused  to  join  the  rebel 
army,  and  declared  their  loyalty  to  their  king  in  terms 
at  once  decisive  and  clear ;  leaving  McCullum  More 
both  astonished  and  mortified  at  a  resistance  and  op- 
position he  so  little  expected. 

The  Highland  herdsmen  of  Dunstaffenage,  whose 
hearts  still  beat  with  delight  at  the  name  .of  McCul- 
lum More,  were  ready  to  enrol  themselves  at  any 
time  as  his  followers ;  and  the  fishermen,  in  their 
honest  zeal  and  unchanged  feelings,  were  ready  to  do 
the  same.  But  some  of  their  chiefs  had  been  among 
those  suspected  of  disloyalty,  and  had  been  thrown 
into  prison;  the  others  were  dead.  The  farmers 
who  remained  at  home  quietly  pursued  their  daily 
duties,  and  whatever  their  real  sentiments  may  have 
been,  took  especial  care  that  nothing  should  escape 
them  savoring  of  disloyalty.  Prudent  and  thought- 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  229 

*.  i    r  j  >     .\  j   «0    1.    /-a    «».-•  i,1-.*-    ") 

fill,  and  enjoying  all  the  comforts  of  life,  they 
dreaded  the  ferment  of  war;  and  in  the  possession  of 
that  domestic  happiness,  which  their  pure  family 
government,  under  the  sweet  influences  of  re- 
ligion, shed  around  iheir  contented  and  blooming 
firesides,  they  determined  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  movement  Argyle  had  set  on  foot.  So 
that  when  his  son  Charles  called  to  see  them  at 
their  farm-houses,  they  one  and  all  refused  to  see 
him. 

Finding  that  nothing  encouraging  could  be  ob- 
tained at  Dunstaffnage,  they  set  out  for  Campbell- 
town,  situated  on  the  southern  extremity  of  Kyn- 
tyre,  and  though  greatly  disappointed  Argyle  was 
not  cast  down.  Eumbold  and  Ayloffe  kept  up  his 
spirits  by  their  sanguine  arguments,  and  consulting 
together,  they  came  to  the  conclusion  of  putting 
forth  a  manifesto,  which  had  been  drawn  up  in  Hol- 
land under  the  direction  of  the  Managing  Com- 
mittee, among  whom  were  Hume  and  Cochrane,  set- 
ting forth,  in  the  strongest  terms,  the  many  grie- 
vances under  which  Scotland  groaned,  and  the  yet 
further  wretchedness  to  which  they,  as  a  people, 
were  condemned,  if  James  was  still  permitted  to  be 
their  king.  Accusing  him  of  having  poisoned  his 
brother,  and  then  holding  up  the  horrors  attendant 
on  a  Papal  administration,  and  a  call  on  Protestants 
to  come  forward  and  join  Argyle  in  endeavoring  to 
expel  him  from  the  throne,  and  establish  that  form 


230  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

of  religion  so  dear  to  the  souls  and  homes  of  every 
Scottish  heart.  Our  beloved  country,  and  the  God 
of  our  fathers,  it  concluded,  call  us  to  action,  let  us 
then  go  forth  and  fight  valiantly  in  so  glorious 
a  cause. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


Like  Monmouth,  Argyle  professed  himself  to  be 
in  arms  for  the  establishment  of  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion, and  the  extirpation  of  Popery.  Yet,  his  own 
practices  might  truly  be  said  to  combine  both  Pagan 
and  Catholic.  He  resolved  to  summon  the  Camp- 
bells to  his  standard,  and  ordering  a  goat  to  be 
brought  before  him,  had  it  killed,  and  then  dipping 
a  cross  of  yew  tree  in  its  blood,  gave  it  into  the 
hands  of  his  followers,  whom  he  despatched  with 
this  warlike  symbol,  with  commands  to  his  clan,  of 
all  ages,  from  sixteen  to  sixty,  to  join  him, 

The  place  selected  for  the  gathering  was  the 
isthmus  of  Larhet,  where  they  collected  to  meet 
their  chief,  who  regarded  their  number  with  a  sad- 
dened spirit,  it  was  so  much  reduced  to  what  it  had 
been;  still  his  force  was  on  the  whole  inspiring, 
amounting  altogether  to  about  eighteen  hundred 
men.  Their  stalwart  forms  indicating  their  great 
physical  power,  and  their  hardy  faces  and  flashing 
eyes  the  energy  and  tdPavery  of  their  hearts.  Argyle, 
as  he  surveyed  his  bold  mountaineers,  felt  a  mo- 
' 


232  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

mentary  glow  of  pride  and  security,  and  dividing 
them  into  three  regiments,  appointed  officers  as  he 
thought  suitable  to  command  them. 

But  this  excited  a  most  unlooked-for  scene  of 
strife,  and  here  was  one  of  the  many  instances  to 
prove  the  importance  of  investing  a  leader  with  un- 
limited control  and  unbounded  power.  The  earl 
had  nominated  such  of  his  kinsmen  as  he  considered 
most  fitted  for  the  command  of  a  regiment,  and  his 
patriarchal  character  entitled  him  to  select.  The 
committee  insisted  on  interfering,  and  before  all  the 
Assemblage  altered  his  decisions,  and  named  others 
whom  they  deemed  more  capable  to  act  as  officers. 
Argyle's  anger  rose  with  this  impertinent  assumption 
of  power  against  himself;  but  he  wisely  restrained 
its  expression  ;  though  he  saw  their  motives.  They 
wished  to  lessen  the  influence  he  possessed  in  the 
Highlands,  and  to  appear  to  be  sharers  in  the  lustre 
which  the  name  of  MacCullum  More  alone  boasted. 
More  mischievous  stiD,  they  carried  on  a  secret  cor- 
respondence with  the  Lowlanders,  without  either  the 
sanction  or  knowledge  of  Argyle. 

The  earl  deeply  felt  every  outward  manifestation 
of  their  want  of  confidence  and  regard,  and  it  acted 
as  such  things  always  will  do,  while  mind  acts  upon 
mind.  It  clipped  his  energies  and  saddened  his 
feelings,  while,  on-  the  contrary,  to  quicken  his  aspi- 
rations and  incite  his  braver^  and  daring  in  such  an 
undertaking,  should  have  been  their  only  aim. 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  233 

Hume  superintended  the  provisions  and  stores  of 
their  army,  and  with  his  disappointed  ambition  still 
rankling  in  his  heart,  he  evidenced  a  carelessness  the 
most  reprehensible  that  could  be  imagined  under  the 
circumstances.  The  arms  he  allowed  to  rust;  and  was 
not  only  wasteful  and  extravagant  of  the  provisions, 
but  indulged  in  the  most  sumptuous  manner  himself, 
and  invited  by  his  example  others  to  do  the  same, 
when  the  exigencies  of  the  case,  and  the  uncertainties 
they  were  involved  in,  should  have  influenced  a 
course  in  diametrical  opposition  to  the  one  he  pursued. 

Everything  being  arranged,  and  feeling  no  time 
was  to  be  lost,  Argyle  now  consulted  with  the  com- 
mittee as  to  the  most  eligible  place  for  the  scene  of 
action,  and  suggested  the  Highlands,  as  his  own 
people  dwelt  there.  But  Hume  and  Cochrane,  with 
their  own  peculiar  ends  in  view,  declared  for  the 
Lowlands.  By  their  correspondence  with  some  of 
the  leading  men  in  the  low  countries,  they  had  done 
everything  to  lessen  Argyle's  influence,  and  create 
for  themselves  an  estimation  which  they  ill  deserved. 
They  hated  Argyle  for  the  position  he  occupied,  and 
success  with  him  as  a  leader  gave  to  their  jealous 
minds  no  pleasure,  and  formed  therefore  no  incentive 
to  action.  The  chief  of  a  numerous  clan,  they  knew 
how  great  was  the  power  he  possessed ;  for  the  dwel- 
lers among  his  towering  mountains  and  flowing  riv- 
ers, glowed  with  but  one  feeling  towards  Argyle. 
Their  hearts,  their  souls,  their  energies  were  his.  So 

11* 


234  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

that  their  opposition  would  soon  be  borne  down,  if 
they  openly  manifested  any ;  and  rallying  to  his 
standard,  their  power  would  be  wholly  withdrawn, 
and  his  increased  to  the  absolute  control  which  they 
had  so  far  kept  him  from  possessing.  Under  the 
influence  of  feelings  such  as  these,  their  demeanor 
evidenced  the  discontent  which  filled  their  minds ; 
while  praise  of  the  bravery  and  faithfulness  of  the 
Lowlanders  was  constantly  on  their  tongues.  A 
consultation  then  followed  these  remarks,  and  it  was 
agreed  upon  that  they  should,  with  a  portion  of  the 
army,  go  to  the  Lowlands,  and  commence  an  in- 
vasion there. 

This  decision  was  entirely  satisfactory,  and  they 
sat  out  with  joyful  hearts  in  pursuit  of  the  glory 
for  which  their  spirits  pined ;  leaving  Argyle  and 
his  faithful  adviser,  Rumbold,  to  commence  their 
siege  in  the  Highlands.  Rumbold  had  greatly  assisted 
the  earl  through  all  his  difficulties  with  these  men, 
and  though  regretting  their  force  was  so  divided, 
thought  that  Argyle  at  the  head  of  an  army  com- 
posed chiefly  of  his  own  tribe,  and  freed  from  the 
annoying  cavilling  of  these  wilful  aspirants  for  a 
rank  to  which  neither  had  any  claim,  might  look 
forward  with  something  like  a  certainty  to  the  ful- 
fillment of  his  dearest  hopes.  The  Campbell's  to  a 
man  were  devoted  to  him;  far  more,  Hume  and 
Cochrane  had  said,  "  than  to  their  God." 

The  Earl  now  first  determined  to  commence  with 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  235 

Inverary,  by  driving  out  all  the  invading  clans  who 
had  stationed  themselves  there,  and  to  take  posses- 
sion of  the  castle  which  had  belonged  to  his  family 
for  ages,  and  by  consequence  had  descended  to  him. 
By  this  measure,  five  thousand  claymores  would  be 
added  to  his  force ;  and  all  that  wild  and  picturesque 
country,  so  dear  to  his  heart  as  the  home  of  his  fa- 
thers, would  be  well  defended,  and  in  a  condition  to 
resist  any  power  that  might  seek  to  molest  or  oppose 
them.  In  all  he  did  or  planned,  Argyle  found  Eum- 
bold  an  excellent  and  clear-headed  assistant,  and  on 
him  he  always  felt  he  could  rely  with  full  confidence 
in.  his  sincerity  and  affection. 

Hume  and  Cochrane's  unhappy  dispositions  af- 
forded very  little  chance  for  the  attainment  of  their 
high  aims  and  pretensions.  The  same  spirit  which 
had  actuated  their  conduct  towards  Argyle,  was  now 
excited  towards  each  other,  and  both  contended  for 
the  mastery.  They  proceeded  with  their  army  when, 
they  sat  out,  for  Ayrshire ;  but  on  arriving  there, 
much  to  their  discomfiture,  they  found  the  coast 
guarded  by  English  frigates.  They  were  therefore 
obliged  to  turn  in  another  direction.  Greenock  was 
not  far  distant,  a  then  small  and  beautiful  village, 
whose  quiet  and  simple  inhabitants  maintained  them- 
selves by  fishing  in  the  Clyde.  Its  appearance  then, 
and  at  the  present  time,  forms  a  great  contrast.  Its 
small,  thatched,  uneven  built  cottages,  have  given 
place  to  a  fine  flourishing  commercial  port,  its  cus- 


236  BRITISH      REBELLION, 

toms  yielding  to  the  government  more  than  all  the 
revenue  of  Scotland  amounted  to,  in  those  days. 

Greenock  was  also  defended,  but  on  a  smaller 
scale  they  found,  than  Ayrshire,  A  company  of 
militia  had  been  stationed  there,  so  they  discovered, 
and  Hume  suggested  that  they  might  as  well  go  far- 
ther ;  and  when  they  did  land,  a  place  wholly  unde- 
fended would  be  the  best.  To  this  reasoning  Coch- 
rane  turned  a  deaf  ear.  He  was  resolved,  he  said, 
to  enter  Greenock,  They  wanted  provisions  and 
there  they  could  be  obtained.  Hume  declared  against 
it,  and  a  violent  altercation  ensued  mr  which  resulted 
in  each  being  resolved  to  oppose  the  other.  They 
sailed  up  an  estuary  of  the  beautiful  river  Clyde,  its 
surface  smooth  and  bright  as  a  mirror,  though  a 
fresh  breeze  wafted  them  briskly  onward  to  the  vil- 
lage whose  poor  miserable  dwellings  presented  little, 
one  would  think,  to  cause  dissension  with  two  such 
grasping,  ambitious  spirits  as  Hume  and  Cochrane. 
Both,  meanwhile  continued  in  high  dudgeon  with  each 
other;  but  Cochrane,  as  they  neared  the  shore,  assum- 
ed dictatorship  by  ordering  Elphinstone,  one  of  their 
officers,  to  take  a  boat  and  twenty  men  with  him, 
and  land  at  Greenock.  But  the  example  they  had 
themselves  led  was  followed  by  their  subordinates. 
Elphinstone  at  once  declared  he  should  do  no  such 
thing ;  that  there  was  no  reason  at  all  in  such  a  re- 
quest, and  that  others  might  obey  such  orders,  but 
lie  should  not. 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  237 

* 

This  spirit  pervaded  all  their  ranks ;  opinions 
were  openly  expressed,  and  as  openly  contradicted, 
and  angry  disputants  saluted  the  ear  on  all  sides. 

At  this  juncture  of  affairs,  Major  Fullarton,  ano- 
ther officer  much  attached  to  Argyle,  and  hoping 
ultimate  success  would  crown  the  efforts  for  freedom 
from  religious  restraint,  his  brave  chief's  enterprise, 
offered  to  go  on  shore  with  only  twelve  men. 

The  militia  were  stationed  off  the  coast,  and  as 
they  neared  the  laud  a  heavy  fire  rent  the  air.  They 
landed  unhurt,  however,  and  an  engagement  follow- 
ed; but  the  militia  were  driven  off,  and  entering 
Greenock,  much  to  Cochrane's  satisfaction,  they  pro- 
cured provisions,  but  of  a  very  inferior  order.  Meal 
was  the  only  thing  which  could  be  obtained,  in  that 
way,  so  he  had  to  be  content  with  that  only  reward 
for  his  pains.  As  the  people  were  averse  to  doing 
anything  against  the  government,  and  were  actuated 
by  prudential  motives,  being  too  poor  to  run  risks, 
and  fearing  any  change  would  be  for  the  worse.  The 
Clyde  washed  their  now  peaceful  shores,  and  the 
fish  they  caught  there  supplied  to  them  the  necessi- 
ties of  life.  They  possessed  nothing  beyond  that 
which  their  daily  labor  yielded,  and  deprived  of 
this,  they  must  perish.  The  interruption,  therefore, 
which  a  war  must  invariably  produce,  filled  them 
with  just  reasons  for  anxiety  and  alarm,  and  they 
turned  from  its  mention  with  horror,  as  they  looked 
on  their  innocent  and  helpless  children  gambolling 


238  BRITISH    REBELLION. 

around  their  doors,  and  felt  their  daily  bread  de* 
pended  solely  on  their  exertions. 

Not  that  they  were  happy  or  contented,  they 
loved  the  religion  of  their  forefathers,  and  read 

"  The  big  ha  Bible  " 

with  pious  and  reverential  fear,  hating  James  and 
Popery  with  all  the  honest  zeal  of  their  single  and 
devoted  hearts.  But  fighting  involved  too  great  a 
stake.  It  was  not  merely  life  and  death,  it  was 
misery  and  starvation,  almost  under  any  circum- 
stances. The  present  could  not  be  sacrificed  to  the 
most  beneficent  future,  as  its  brightness  would  be 
wholly  obscured  by  the  intervening  shadows  that 
lay  around  their  paths. 

And  the  general  feeling  throughout  Scotland 
was  unfavorable  to  Argyle's  undertaking ;  the  peo- 
ple felt  themselves  aggrieved  and  oppressed;  and 
they  hated  James  and  the  Catholic  religion ;  but 
how  they  were  to  rid  themselves  of  those  mountains 
of  dislike,  they  knew  not.  They  wished  to  live  in 
peace,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  privileges  as  a 
Protestant  nation;  but  -  the  King's  known  bigotry 
rilled  them  with  apprehensions  for  the  future ;  and 
Argyle  himself  had  at  one  time  summoned  his  clan 
in  defence  of  prelacy,  though  now  fighting  against 
it.  This  inconsistency  was  tenaciously  treasured  up 
in  their  minds,  and  it  operated  in  the  Lowlands,  es- 
pecially, much  against  him.  There  is  a  marked 
difference  of  character  in  the  Highlanders  and  Low- 


BRITISH     RBBELLION.  239 

landers.  That  of  the  former  is  wild,  imaginative, 
impulsive,  chivalrous,  and  unreflecting.  For  war 
and  the  glory  of  their  chief  they  are  always  ready 
to  fight;  but  the  latter,  governed  more  by  reason 
and  reflection,  are  on  the  other  extreme ;  weighing 
all  things  in  the  narrow  scales  of  their  own  circum- 
scribed vision.  A  deeply  religious  people  too,  they 
considered  that  every  action  should  have  God  for 
its  end  and  aim.  Argyle's  men  they  regarded  as 
slaves,  looking  to  him  in  their  blindness,  instead  of 
that  Higher  power  to  whom  all  their  actions  should 
be  referred.  In  a  word,  religion  was  in  all  they  said 
and  did ;  their  daily  dialect  was  mixed  up  with  quo- 
tations from  Scripture,  mingled  with  the  cant  phra- 
ses of  the  wildest  fanaticism.  Argyle,  in  their  esti- 
mation, was  a  wicked,  worldly-minded  man;  and 
the  manifesto  he  had  sent  forth,  setting  up  his  claims 
in  defiance  of  the  ruling  powers,  was  a  vile  and  evil 
document,  and  utterly  unworthy  of  the  notice  of 
good  men ;  as  the  name  of  the  Lord  was  not  once  in- 
voked in  it. 

!**  As  bigoted  as  James  himself,  they  wanted  that 
all  things  should  subserve  their  form  of  religion. 
None  but  Covenanters  were  of  the  true  faith,  and 
none  but  them,  in  their  austere  views,  should  be 
tolerated.  MacCullum  More  had  once  been  in  arms 
against  that  body,  and  the  pure  spirit  of  Christianity, 
under  any  other  form,  was  to  them  an  abomination. 
As  sectarians,  they  would  have  deluged  the  earth 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 

•with  blood  to  set  up  their  own  peculiar  doctrines, 
and  made  the  word  covenant  the  only  password,  to 
Heaven.  Among  such  zealots,  Cochrane  and  Hume 
found  they  had  little  chance  of  success ;  for  the  key 
that  alone  could  unlock  and  enlist  the  energies  of 
those  fanatics,  they  had  neither  the  will,  the  know- 
ledge, or  the  hypocrisy  to  use,  and,  in  a  short  time, 
discouraged  by  the  strong  current  of  feeling  that 
opposed  them,  they  again  sought  Argyle  in  the  Isle 
of  Bute. 

The  earl  gladly  welcomed  them  back,  as  his  forces 
would  be  greatly  augmented  by  the  addition  they 
had  brought  with  them ;  and  with  it,  his  first  thought 
was  the  castle  of  Inverary.  An  attack  was  therefore 
planned  ;  but  he  had  reckoned  too  surely  on  the  in- 
crease of  strength  which  Hume  and  Cochrane  had 
brought  with  them ;  and,  when  his  intention  was  de- 
clared, a  fierce  opposition  was  set  up  against  it,  first 
by  Hume  and  Cochrane,  and  then  by  those  who  had 
accompanied  them  into  the  Lowlands.  His  own  clan 
as  resolutely  declared  for  their  chief.  Party  feeling 
ran  high  between  the  followers  of  the  rival  com- 
manders, and  a  battle  was  seriously  apprehended. 
Argyle  dreaded  such  an  outbreak,  and  proposed  a 
meeting  in  order  to  the  adoption  of  some  conciliatory 
measures,  which  resulted  in  the  selection  of  the  an- 
cient castle  of  Ealan  Ghierg,  instead  of  Inverary,  as 
the  place  for  the  chief  seat  of  arms ;  and  to  this  end 
the  stores  and  provisions  were  at  once  taken  and 
deposited  there. 


UK  ITU  II     REBELLION.  241 

The  situation  of  Ealan  Gkierg  was  well  adapted 
for  such  a  purpose.  It  stood  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Loch  Ridan,  surrounded  by  rocks  and  shallows, 
at  the  foot  of  a  lofty  range  of  mountains,  towering 
in  picturesque  beauty  and  sublimity  above  the 
gloomy  turreted  edifice  it  frowned  in  grandeur  and 
strength  upon.  Gulls  screamed  around  its  solitude, 
and  the  plash  of  the  rippling  waters  were  the  only 
sounds  that  broke  the  profound  stillness  that  reigned 
around. 

The  fleet  was  stationed  close  to  its  walls,  its 
rocky  coast  protecting  it,  it  was  thought,  eifectually 
from  the  enemy's  advances.  A  battery  was  then 
formed  by  guns  taken  from  the  ships,  and  its  com- 
mand given  to  Elphinstone,  a  man  most  injudiciously 
selected,  as  his  quarrelsome  disposition  continued  to 
spread  a  spirit  of  disobedience  and  disunion  among 
the  troops. 

Argyle  felt  the  difficulties  of  his  position  more  and 
more  every  day,  as  Hume  and  Cochrane  increased 
their  assumption  ;  and,  but  for  the  support  of  Rum- 
bold,  would  have  felt  wholly  discouraged.  He  at  all 
times  listened  to  his  plans  with  that  respectful  consi- 
deration for  his  judgment  and  position,  which,  to  a 
leader,  at  any  time,  is  always  so  calculated  to  deve- 
lope  his  best  energies.  Taking  some  troops,  he  laid 
siege  on  the  castle  of  Ardlingglass,  and  was  success- 
ful. This  infused  new  life  among  their  ranks ;  and 
Argyle,  still  bent  on  taking  Inverary,  attacked 


242  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

Atliol's  men,  and  gained  upon  them.  He  was  then 
about  to  advance  upon  the  castle,  when  news  reached 
him  of  the  most  alarming  character. 

The  frigates  of  the  enemy  had  almost  reached  the 
very  walls  of  Ealan  Ghierg,  thus  putting  to  flight  the 
vain  idea  Argyle  had  rested  on  so  securely,  that  it  was 
utterly  impossible  to  do  so.  It  was  truly  appalling. 
Something  must  be  done  immediately  to  avoid  it,  as 
their  little  army,  and  still  smaller  fleet,  could  not  face 
this  formidable  squadron.  A  consultation  was  held, 
and  a  march  proposed  further  into  the  Highlands.  But 
this,  the  Lowland  portion  of  their  forces  peremptorily 
refused  to  do.  Argyle  lost  no  time  in  coming  back 
to  Ealan  Ghierg ;  when  it  instantly  occurred  to  him 
to  make  an  attack  on  the  frigates.  A  great  number 
of  his  clan  were  fishermen,  and  by  that  means  thirty 
boats  could  surround  them,  well  manned  with  armed, 
brave  and  devoted  Highlanders.  Argyle  proposed 
this  with  an  enthusiastic  confidence  in  being  at  once 
supported  in  his  plan,  and  readily  seconded  and 
obeyed.  But  Hume  and  Cochrane,  with  their  usual 
spirit  of  opposition,  refused  their  sanction  to  the 
measure,  and  declared,  in  the  hearing  of  all,  that  it 
would  be  sheer  madness  to  attempt  such  a  thing. 
And,  the  more  effectually  to  prevent  Argyle  from 
acting  in  the  manner  he  had  proposed,  they  pro- 
voked the  sailors  to  quarrel  among  themselves, 
which  at  once  set  an  end  to  all  ideas  and  hopes,  for 
that  time,  of  attacking  the  frigates  which  lay  at 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  243 

anchor  quietly  and  proudly  beneath  the  very  castle 
it  was  known  Argyle  and  his  party  occupied ;  with 
their  three  ships, — like  theirs,  resting  on  the  quiet 
waters,  waiting  for  action. 

Argyle's  courage  and  spirits  entirely  failed  him ; 
there  was,  he  feared,  nothing  to  hope.  Hume  and 
Cochrane  he  saw,  with  heartfelt  sorrow  and  deep 
misery,  were  determined  to  check  every  wish  and 
command  which  he  might  express.  His  authority, 
he  felt,  was  at  an  end ;  and  gloom  and  despair  filled 
his  soul.  Added  to  all  this,  Hume's  management  of 
the  provisions  had  been  so  wasteful,  that  the  troops 
were  scarcely  half  fed ;  and  the  stores  were  nearly 
exhausted.  These  brave  men  loved  their  leader,  and 
would  have  followed  him  uncomplaining  through 
every  hardship ;  but  seeing  how  things  were,  that 
others  set  up  their  claims  against  him,  wholly  dis- 
couraged men  accustomed  for  years  to  obey  no  voice 
but  his,  and  almost  to  regard  their  chief  in  the  light 
of  a  king.  They,  like  Argyle,  lost  all  heart,  and 
fled  by  hundreds  from  a  scene  in  which,  they  had 
hoped,  with  their  gallant  leader,  to  retire  from,  bear- 
ing trophies  of  victory,  only  to  lay  them  with  joyful 
hearts  at  their  chiefs  feet. 

Hume  and  Cochrane  had  all  along  desired,  because 
it  was  in  opposition  to  the  wishes  of  Argyle,  to  have 
the  seat  of  war  in  the  Lowlands.  In  the  Highlands 
they  were  nothing ;  and  the  earl  was  every  thing. 
They  had  both  interest  and  influence  in  the  low 


244  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

countries ;  and  there  they  had,  from  the  first,  desired 
to  go.  At  the  present  juncture  of  affairs,  those  of 
the  Lowlands,  who  had  joined  their  ranks,  absolutely 
refused  going  farther  into  the  Highlands ;  and  Ar- 
gyle,  feeling  his  individual  power  gone,  yielded  to 
the  general  wish,  though  with  a  sad  foreboding  mind, 
to  march  into  the  Lowlands. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


Gathering  up  the  fragments  of  his  little  army, 
therefore,  Argyle  commenced  what  he  termed  his 
retreat,  into  the  Lowlands.  Energy  he  had  none, 
and  spirits  brightened  by  hope  were  entirely  gone. 
He  felt  like  one  lead,  instead  of  leading,  and  whither 
he  knew  not.  The  prospect  of  victory  no  longer 
gladdened  his  mental  vision,  and  the  alternative  so 
fearful  in  contemplation  haunted  him  continually. 
Files  of  the  enemy,  as  a  natural  consequence,  he  felt 
would  be  stationed  in  every  part  of  the  country,  and 
surprises  greet  them  at  every  turn;  and  with  his 
now  weakened  force,  how  soon  they  would  become 
prisoners  it  did  not  seem  very  difficult  to  tell.  To 
Argyle  their  prospects  were  melancholy  indeed. 
Rumbold  sought  by  every  means  in  his  power  to 
comfort  the  earl,  and  to  that  faithful  heart  alone 
Argyle  turned  for  consolation.  Major  Fullarton 
also  shared  his  confidence,  and  that  brave  man  was 
as  devoted  as  Rumbold  to  his  noble  chief. 

Their  destination  for  the  present  was  Loch  Long, 
which  they  reached  towards  evening,  then  taking 


246  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

advantage  of  the  night,  they  crossed  that  inlet  in 
boats,  on  their  way  to  Dumbartonshire,  where  they 
landed  in  safety  towards  day-break.  Their  spirits 
had  too  in  a  measure  risen,  from  having  proceeded 
so  far  without  any  impediment.  But  a  damper  was 
at  hand.  They  had  scarcely  passed  the  shore  when 
news  was  sent  to  the  earl,  by  Elphinston,  who  had 
charge  of  the  castle  of  Ealan  Ghierg,  that  the  king's 
frigates  had  forced  a  passage  and  taken  all  their 
ships,  and  that  in  a  panic  of  fear,  without  one  show 
of  resistance,  he  had  fled  to  save  his  life,  leaving  the 
enemy  in  complete  possession  of  every  thing  within 
its  walls,  but  too  glad  to  escape  the  wretched  fate  of 
being  taken  prisoner. 

This  was  stunning  intelligence  to  Argyle,  and 
greatly  deepened  the  despondency  he  experienced. 
All  they  could  do  now  he  felt  afforded  them  little 
chance  of  victory ;  but  Hume  and  Cochrane  were  in 
no  way  depressed.  Their  jealous  feelings  were  in- 
deed gratified,  if  anything,  at  Argyle's  manifest  dis- 
comfiture ;  they  had  conquered  and  gained  their 
desire  of  having  the  decision  made  in  the  Lowlands, 
and  that  sufficed  for  them.  Now,  if  victory  should 
crown  their  efforts,  the  laurel  would  not  alone  grace 
the  brow  of  Argyle,  they  would  also  share  it.  And 
with  such  ideas,  these  men  of  small  minds,  in  the 
present  extremities  of  their  condition,  amused  and 
congratulated  themselves  with. 

But  some  immediate  plan  was  necessary ;  the  in- 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 

vasion  of  the  Lowlands  was  now  clearly  their  way, 
and  no  time  was  to  be  lost. 

Argyle  expressed  his  determination  to  go  at  once 
to  Glasgow  and  besiege  the  town ;  and  this,  like  all 
his  other  propositions,  was  received  with  opposition. 
No,  they  would  not  go  there ;  even  those  who  had 
been  most  for  leaving  the  Highlands  argued  against 
the  measure,  and  resolved  to  abandon  the  earl  and 
his  mad-brained  enterprise,  as  they  now  called  it, 
altogether.  They  even  formed  a  secret  scheme  to 
seize  all  the  boats  for  that  purpose,  but  were  dis- 
covered, and  compelled  to  share,  to  the  last,  the 
risks  and  results  of  their  last  venture  in  the  cause 
they  had  espoused. 

This  last  stroke  almost  crushed  the  noble  Argyle. 
It  was  evident  that  his  words  and  wishes  were  to 
have  no  weight.  Before  all  his  brave  followers  his 
plans  were  always  received  with  almost  open  con- 
tempt, and  every  proposal  set  aside  to  give  place  to 
more  energetic  and  bold  resolves.  He  was  mortified 
to  the  very  soul,  and  his  spirit  became  darker  and 
darker  as  he  brooded  on  the  wretched  position  he 
occupied,  and  the  visible  hatred  which  met  him  at 
every  turn.  It  had  already  almost  caused  their  ruin; 
forjtheir  troops  were  reduced  to  a  most  meagre  number, 
in  consequence  of  that  withdrawal  of  his  authority, 
in  which  his  brave  clansmen  had  for  years  delighted. 
Again  Argyle,  Hume  and  Cochrane  consulted,  and 
orders  were  given  to  proceed  to  Loch  Lomond. 


248  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

The  march  therefore  commenced,  but  they  were  con- 
stantly impeded  by  parties  of  militia,  and  skirmishes 
took  place.  The  earl  was  often,  however,  success- 
ful, but  the  troops  he  repelled  only  fell  back  to  re- 
organize in  a  stronger  force.  Soon  after  he  had 
crossed  the  river  Leven,  he  found  a  strong  body  had 
mustered,  and  were  prepared  for  action. 

Argyle  seeing  this,  communicated  his  views  to 
Hume  and  Cochrane,  which  were,  to  give  battle. 
Ayloffe  seconded  the  measure,  but  Hume,  as  was  his 
wont,  opposed  it,  and  this  time  with  good  reason. 
There  was  a  regiment  of  Eed-coats,  and  more  might 
be  lying  in  ambush,  which  seemed  very  probable. 
"With  their  now  diminished  forces,  such  a  step  was 
absolute  madness.  His  suggestion  was  to  remain 
quiet  till  night  closed  in,  and  then  to  steal  a  march 
upon  them. 

A  quarrel  ensued,  and  high,  offensive  words 
passed  between  the  earl  and  Hume.  Rumbold  inter- 
fered, and  by  the  intervention  of  his  quiescent* spirit, 
peace  was  restored.  But  Argyle's  heart's- wounds  again 
bled  afresh,  and  agony  of  mind  seemed  almost  to  de- 
vour his  brave  and  generous  soul.  Again  his  wish 
had  been  overruled ;  again  insult  had  been  offered 
to  his  authority,  before  his  troops  ;  and  the  voice  of 
his  open  and  avowed  enemy  had  gained  the  mastery. 

The  two  armies  encamped  on  the  same  ground, 
within  gun-shot  distance  of  each  other,  each  busied 
in  preparations,  but  neither  advancing.  Evening 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


249 


closed  around  their  operations,  without  anything 
decisive  appearing ;  and,  as  the  night  deepened 
around  them,  the  earl,  with  a  timid  voice,  proposed 
attacking  the  king's  forces.  This  again  was  opposed. 
And  Argyle  sunk  into  despair. 

Hume's  suggestion  of  slipping  slyly  away,  seemed 
their  best  move ;  and  collecting  about  midnight,  they 
set  forth,  with  the  hope  that,  by  this  means,  they 
would  be  .able  both  to  gain  upon  and  evade  the 
enemy. 

The  watch-fires  gleamed  in  the  distance,  as  they 
went  forward ;  and  trusting  to  guides  to  bring  them 
safely  to  Glasgow,  over  heaths  and  morasses,  they 
gave  no  thought  themselves  to  the  road  they  tra- 
velled. 

This  was  a  sad  mistake.  The  night  was  so  ex- 
ceedingly dark — not  a  star  even  lighting  the  horizon 
— that  the  guides  could  not  see  the  track,  and  took 
them  quite  in  another  direction,  into  ground  so  wet 
and  boggy,  that,  in  attempting  to  cross  it,  they  lost 
their  footing,  and  were  obliged,  covered  with  mud, 
to  recede  as  quickly  as  possible.  Oaths  and  impre- 
cations followed  this  disastrous  mishap  ;  for,  already 
tired  and  disheartened,  the  soldiers  felt  they  little 
needed  this  addition  to  their  misery. 

The  darkness  was  so  intense  that  the  guides 
did  not  know  where  they  were;  and,  wet  up  to 
the  knees,  hungry,  and  without  hope  to  cheer  them 
on  their  miserable  way,  it  was  no  wonder  they 

12 


250  BRITISH   REBELLION'.' 

evidenced  their  dissatisfaction  in  no  very  measur- 
ed terms. 

Fear,  too,  filled  their  hearts ;  and  every  sound 
they  heard  was  turned  into  the  approach  of  the  ene- 
my, who,  they  but  too  well  knew,  would  show  no 
mercy ;  and  their  numbers,  being  so  far  greater  than 
their  own,  the  result  would  be  horrible.  Argyle  real- 
ized all  the  wretchedness  of  their  position,  and  a  quiet 
despair  painfully  marked  his  demeanor ;  while  Hume 
and  Cochrane  possessed  the  same  determined  aspect 
that  had  at  all  times  distinguished  them.  Eumbold 
felt  more  for  the  earl  than  for  himself,  and  with 
Ayloffe  assisted  the  noble  chief  as  much  as  possible. 
But  all  their  efforts  were  vain.  Argyle  saw  that 
everything  went  against  them.  This  last  mischance 
had  a  terrible  effect  on  him  ;  the  army  continued  to 
advance,  but  the  soil,  wherever  they  turned,  was  of 
the  same  boggy  description.  The  soldiers  and  officers 
became  louder  and  louder  in  their  complaints.  Their 
fears  also  increasing  with  every  step  they  took,  con- 
fusion reigned  throughout  the  troops,  to  such  an  ex- 
tent, that  they  could  only  be  compared  to  an  excited 
mob.  All  command  was  at  an  end ;  many  fled  with- 
out saying  anything  to  any  one,  undiscovered  from 
the  darkness  of  the  night.  Several  brave  men  wan- 
dered out  of  the  way,  among  whom  was  Eumbold ; 
and,  though  they  were  within  hearing  of  the  main 
body,  were  unable  to  join  them. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  251 

The  day  at  length  dawned ;  but  the  light  re- 
vealed a  melancholy  sight.  Only  five  hundred  of 
their  army  remained,  who,  dispirited  and  worn  out 
with  fatigue  and  hunger,  assembled  at  Kilpatrick  to 
consult  about  their  future  plans. 

JL  t 


"      - 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


Their  energies  were  now  completely  paralized, 
and  the  enterprise  commenced  with  such  sanguine 
hopes  of  success,  all  felt  must  be  given  up.  But 
with  this  conclusion  came  those  fears  for  their  safety 
which  a  little  time  sufficed  to  show  were  but  too 
well  founded.  To  escape  with  their  lives  was  their 
great  and  now  only  concern.  Hume  at  once  started 
for  the  Continent,  which  he  reached  safely.  Coch- 
rane  would  have  fled  there  also,  but  having  taken  a 
different  road  to  Hume,  was  taken  by  one  of  the 
king's  scouts,  and  sent  to  London,  where  he  was  im- 
mediately confined  in  the  tower.  Argyle  had  formed 
no  definite  plan,  but  conceived  it  best  till  he  did  so 
to  seek  out  the  residence  of  an  old  and  tried  servant 
residing  near  Kilpatrick,  and  secreet  himself  there 
for  a  time.  In  order  to  accomplish  this  purpose  he 
disguised  himself  as  a  peasant,  and  with  a  slouched 
hat,  and  staff  in  hand,  sat  out,  accompanied  by  his 
attached  friend,  Major  Fullarton,  to  whom  he  acted 
as  guide. 

To  describe  Argyle's  state  of  mind  would  be  a 

' 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  253 

vain  and  futile  task.  Every  hope  in  life  seemed 
to  have  forsaken  him,  and  the  world  and  its  con- 
cerns to  have  lost  all  interest  in  his  crushed  and 
broken  heart.  The  images  of  his  beloved  wife  and 
children,  in  their  grief  at  his  disappointed  and  fruit- 
less attempt,  filled  his  soul  with  a  still  deeper  sorrow, 
and  he  wandered  on  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening, 
giving  utterance  occasionally  to  the  feelings  that 
oppressed  him,  to  one  whose  sympathy  was  as  sin- 
cere as  his  character  was  brave  and  faithful. 

They  proceeded  through  Eenfrewshire,  as  far  as 
McBinnan,  where  two  streams,  named  the  Black  and 
White  Cart  (then  flowing  through  moorlands  and 
pasture-grounds,  on  their  way  to  the  Clyde,  but, 
which  now  turn  the  wheels  of  prosperous  manufac- 
tories, and  blend  with  their  flow  the  hum  of  busy 
life,)  seemed  to  offer  a  chance  of  fording  to  the  oppo- 
site shore,  unperceived  by  those  whom  they  knew 
were  keenly  looking  out  for  their  capture.  But  in 
this  hope  they  were  mistaken.  A  party  of  militia 
had  been  already  stationed  there,  and  took  them 
quite  by  surprise  as  they  came  up  to  the  banks  of 
the  streams.  Argyle  thought  of  his  peasant  dress, 
and  trusted  it  would  shield  him  from  recognition. 
Major  Fullarton  thought  only  of  the  Earl ;  and 
could  he  escape,  cared  little  for  himself.  Questions, 
as  they  approached,  were  immediately  asked  by 
the  soldiers.  The  major  answered  promptly,  but 
the  pretended  guide  keeping  silence,  suspicions 


254  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

were  excited,  and  they  advanced  and  laid  hands  on 
Argyle.  He  sprung  from  them  at  a  bound,  and 
plunged  into  the  water.  They  followed  immediately 
after,  five  in  number,  but  the  energy  of  desperation 
enabled  the  earl  for  some  time  to  baffle  their  efforts 
to  overtake  him,  and  remembering  his  pocket- 
pistols,  he  presented  one,  but,  alas,  the  water  had 
got  into  the  powder,  and  it  would  not  go  off.  By 
this  time  they  had  come  so  near  that  one  of  them 
struck  him  a  blow  with  a  sword,  which  so  stunned 
him  that  he  was  taken  without  the  least  difficulty, 
and  brought  to  the  shore  a  prisoner. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  they  demanded,  when  Argyle 
came  to  himself. 

"  I  am  the  Earl  of  Argyle,"  he  answered,  hoping 
by  this  frank  avowal  to  soften  their  hearts  and 
command  the  respect  his  presence  had  always  in- 
sured heretofore.  But  now  the  case  was  altered. 
A  price  had  been  set  upon  his  person;  and  his 
countrymen's  love  for  the  great  name  of  MacCul- 
lum  More  was  not  proof  against  their  worldly- 
mi  ndedness.  However,  by  letting  him  go  they 
endangered  their  own  lives.  They  wept,  as  they 
beheld  their  noble  Captain,  but  held  him  fast  the 
while.  Though  some  of  them  felt  so  much  at  seeing 
the  earl  so  utterly  cast  down,  that  they  would  have 
yielded  at  last  to  the  pleadings  of  pity  in  his  hehalf, 
had  not  one  of  them,  by  the  name  of  Eiddell,  stre- 
nuously opposed  it.  Argyle  was  therefore  conveyed 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  255 

to  Kenfrew,  and  put  into  prison  there.  Meanwhile 
Major  Fullarton  had  escaped ;  though  he  would 
gladly  have  laid  down  his  own  life  to  save  that  of 
his  beloved  chief. 

From  this  time  the  name  of  Kiddell  was  marked, 
and  for  more  than  a  century  after,  not  one  of  their 
race  dared  to  show  their  faces  at  fairs  or  other  merry- 
makings for  fear  of  the  vengeance  of  the  Campbells, 
whose  whole  tribe,  whenever  they  met  a  Kiddell, 
never  failed  to  bestow  a  summary  remembrancer  on 
the  person  of  any  one  bearing  that  hated  name. 

On  this  account  they  rarely  ventured  to  ap- 
proach Argylshire ;  or  if  any  special  occasion  de- 
manded their  presence  there,  they  always  took  the 
precaution  of  assuming  an  alias. 

When  Argyle  found  himself  within  the  walls  of 
a  prison,  after  the  first  burst  of  grief  was  over,  he 
commenced  reviewing  the  past ;  and,  as  he  did  so, 
he  felt  that  no  possibility  of  success  could  have  fol- 
lowed his  enterprise  in  connection  with  such  men 
as  Hume  and  Cochrane.  Their  jealousy  of  his  posi- 
tion had  led  to  all  their  misfortunes.  He  felt  how 
wrong  he  had  acted  from  the  outset,  and  that  he 
should  have  advocated  the  necessity  of  a  leader's 
having  uncontrolled  power  before  taking  one  step 
in  his  daring  and  perilous  undertaking. 

Why — he  asked  himself  as  he  paced  the  narrow 
cell  in  which  he  was  confined — why  did  I  not  leave 
Holland  single-handed ;  and,  trusting  to  my  brave 


256  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

clansmen,  have  sought  my  native  mountains,  and 
summoned  all,  to  whom  the  name  of  Argyle  was 
dear,  to  my  standard  ?  Ah  1  had  I  acted  thus,  all 
would  have  been  well,  and  victory  been  mine. 

Thus  soliloquized  MacCulIum  More,  the  noble 
chief  of  a  brave  tribe,  and  his  reasoning  was  just. 
Cochrane  and  Hume  had  effected  the  destruction 
they  preferred,  to  success  with  Argyle  at  the  head ; 
and  Scotland,  with  all  her  grievances,  was  left  to  her 
fate,  without  a  single  hope  of  redress  while  James 
occupied  the  throne  of  England. 

Captures  of  the  insurgents  now  folloAved  quickly, 
among  whom  were  the  brave  Eumbold  and  Ayloffe. 
The  Scottish  people  were  in  great  grief  for  Ar- 
gyle's  failure,  the  peasantry  especially.  They  loved 
the  Calvinistic  religion;  and  had  hoped  the  good 
earl  would  have  succeeded  in  his  bold  enterprise 
for  its  sake.  This  overthrow  of  their  fond  antici- 
pations was  met  by  tears  and  lamentations  both  for 
Argyle  and  themselves,  while  the  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  his  losing  his  life  for  the  cause  filled 
the  greater  part  of  the  nation  with  gloom  and 
mourning,  which  prevailed  among  all  ranks  and 
grades. 

Argyle's  amiability  of  character  ill  fitted  him  for 
the  office  he  had  undertaken,  but  in  the  solitude  of 
his  prison  it  formed  a  picture  of  heroism  rarely  to 
be  found.  His  true  greatness  of  mind  here  exempli- 
fied itself.  Manly  and  resigned,  the  mildness  of  his 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  257 

deportment  filled  the  jailers  with  admiration  and 
awe.  They  seemed  to  regard  him  as  something 
above  even  the  highest  mould  of  humanity,  and 
were  often  moved  to  tears  as  they  beheld  his  sub- 
dued, yet  majestic  form,  like  the  forest  oak  bending, 
but  not  crushed  by  the  storm. 

His  noble  lineage  here  asserted  itself,  and  his 
clear,  deep  intellect  shone  with  a  lustre  as  bright  as 
it  was  commanding.  Every  insult  which  heartless- 
ness  could  suggest  was  offered  to  him  by  his  merci- 
less conquerors,  but  he  received  it  in  the  spirit  of 
meekness,  supported  by  that  inward  consciousness 
of  greatness  which  no  outward  humiliation  could 
subdue. 

The  day  arrived  when  he  was  to  be  led  forth 
from  his  prison,  and  be  paraded  through  the 
High-street  of  Edinburg,  to  glut  the  vengeance  of 
his  conquerors.  It  was  a  needless  display  of  tri- 
umph, but  one  which  they  thought  best  calculated 
to  lacerate  the  feelings  of  the  earl,  whose  pride  of 
ancestry  and  lordly  pretensions  they  knew  so  well. 

A  procession  was  formed  to  proceed  up  the  street 
leading  from  Holyrood-house  to  the  castle,  among 
whom  was  the  hangman,  bearing  the  horrible  in- 
signia of  his  order,  the  quartering-block.  Argyle 
followed  next  him  on  foot,  with  his  head  uncovered, 
with  a  countenance,  on  which  was  impressed  a 
patience  and  a  pathos  so  touching,  that  scarcely  a 
dry  eye,  in  the  immense  crowd  gathered  to  see  him, 

12* 


258  BRITISH     KEBELLIOK. 

was  to  be  seen.  Even  his  enemies  felt  its  influence, 
though  in  their  rancorous  plan,  the  fate  of  Montrose, 
thirty-five  years  before,  had  decided  this  procession 
should  take  place,  and  in  the  same  direction  in 
which  he  was  taken  when  leading  to  his  doom.  Since 
that  period  the  houses  of  Graham  and  Campbell  had 
been  at  deadly  feud. 

The  day  was  brightly  beautiful,  and  the  sun's 
rays  fell  with  scalding  heat  on  the  bare  head  of 
Argyle,  but  he  heeded  it  not ;  all  unconscious  too  of 
the  multitude  that  gazed  at  him,  he  followed  on  till 
he  reached  the  castle,  when  his  legs  were  heavily 
ironed.  The  noble  captive  submitted  to  this  in- 
dignity with  the  same  composure  which  had  charac- 
terized all  his  other  actions.  No  word  escaped  him, 
not  a  sigh  nor  a  murmur  was  heard.  Like  his  Divine 
Master,  he  yielded  himself  to  his  persecutors  without 
hope,  yet  without  despair.  His  thoughts  were  all 
heavenward,  and  to  his  God  he  yielded  himself,  in 
this  his  hour  of  extremity,  without  fear  or  reserve. 

James'  commands  were,  that  he  should  have  no 
trial ;  a  decision  which  even  the  most  hardened  of 
his  enemies  protested  against,  but  in  vain,  while  his 
friends  indulged  in  anathemas  against  its  injustice,  as 
being  without  a  parallel  in  the  annals  of  any  country. 

Argyle's  fortitude  and  resignation,  under  his 
trying  circumstances,  were  beyond  description.  He 
heard  this  cruel  decision  without  one  expression  of 
dissatisfaction — without  one  word  of  expostulation. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  259 

But  a  still  greater  trial  awaited  him.  The  privy 
council  sent  him  a  paper  of  interrogatories,  relative 
to  his  friends  and  confederates,  to  gain  every  possible 
intelligence,  in  order  to  having  them  all  arrested  and 
executed.  He  replied  to  each  question,  but  warily 
and  sparingly,  not  wishing  that  any  should  suffer 
for  his  sake. 

When  his  answers  were  taken  back  they  were 
extremely  displeased,  as  nothing  satisfactory  was 
divulged.  "  Go,  therefore,"  they  said  to  the  messen- 
gers, "  and  tell  the  earl,  that  if  he  is  not  more  ex- 
plicit, the  torture  must  be  employed  to  bring  out 
what  remains  yet  within." 

To  this  menace  he  mildly  returned,  "that  he  had 
nothing  more  to  say."  Confined  amid  the  gloom  of 
the  castle,  allowed  no  intercourse  with  his  beloved 
family,  with  the  prospect  of  death  before  his  eyes, 
and  very  possibly  the  torture,  Argyle  yet  preserved 
his  heavenly  mindedness,  his  tranquil  and  spiritual 
state  undisturbed,  it  would  seem,  by  one  earthly 
thought. 

"  My  poor  clansmen,"  he  would  sometimes  mur- 
mur, "may  you  be  spared  if  I  am  not."  He  wrote 
to  his  wife  and  children  after  the  day  of  execution 
was  fixed,  saying,  "I  must  die  on  Monday,  and 
previously  to  that  I  am  to  be  put  to  the  torture,  if  I 
do  not  implicate  my  unfortunate  followers,  by  re- 
vealing all  I  know  upon  oath.  Through  all  this  I 
trust  God  will  support  me." 


I 

260  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

With,  all  tliis  in  view  liis  aspect  was  still  the 
same ;  calm  and  composed  he  passed  his  days  and 
most  of  his  nights  in  devotion,  and  it  is  probable 
such  a  touching  picture  of  resignation  and  submis- 
sion to  his  hard  destiny,  had  the  effect  of  softening 
his  enemies,  as  nothing  was  heard  of  the  torture 
afterwards.  His  treatment  too  was  far  less  rigorous 
than  it  had  previously  been,  for  which  he  blessed 
God,  "whose  good  spirit,"  he  said  "  had  melted  their 
hearts  in  his  favor." 

Many  less  magnanimous  than  Argyle  would 
have  endeavored  to  soften  his  captors  in  his  favor 
by  betraying  his  clansmen ;  but  the  noble  chief  was 
incapable  of  such  perfidy,  and  up  to  the  last  pre- 
served his  integrity  towards  them,  thankiDg  God 
that  he  had  been  supported  through  all  to  do  so. 
"  None  have  I  named  disadvantageously,"  he  said, 
"  truly  has  my  God  helped  me." 

He  also  wrote  to  a  lady  in  Holland,  who  had 
advanced  him  a  large  sum  of  money  for  his  enter- 
prise, stating  how  disasterously  everything  had 
turned  out,  and  dwelling  at  some  length  on  the  con- 
stant and  ill-advised  jealousy  of  Hume  and  Coch- 
rane,  "to  whom,"  he  added,  "all  my  misfortunes 
are  owing." 

This  explanation  he  judged  due  to  the  amiable 
lady,  who,  from  the  pure  motives  of  private  friend- 
ship, had  impoverished  herself  to  assist  him,  trusting 
in  much  confidence  in  his  success.  But  as  his  last 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  261 

hours  drew  near,  he  feared  he  had  been  too  severe 
towards  his  enemies,  and  consulted  with  a  friend 
whether  he  thought  him  too  harsh  in  his  judgment, 
as,  if  he  had  been,  he  would  suppress  what  he  had 
said.  "  Though  certainly,"  he  mildly  added,  "  they 
would  not  be  governed." 

It  was  the  day  before  his  death  that  the  evening 
shadows  and  the  midnight  hour  found  Argyle  in 
prayer.  He  had  composed  too  his  own  epitaph.  A 
simple  but  touching  composition,  expressive  of  his 
situation,  and  his  feelings  at  being  torn  from  his 
beloved  wife  and  family,  and  lastly,  his  reliance  and 
firm  trust  in  the  mercy  of  his  God,  and  his  hopes  of 
heaven  through  a  Eedeemer's  love. 

As  his  last  hours  came  nearer  and  nearer,  he  la- 
mented with  great  bitterness  the  inconsistencies  of  his 
past  life.  "I  was  not  fit,"  he  would  say,  with  great 
feeling,  "to  be  the  deliverer  of  the  church  or  my  coun- 
try." But  while  saying  this,  as  if  a  light  suddenly 
darted  into  his  mind,  "  the  time  is  coming  when  deli- 
verance will  come  and  the  Lord's  cause  be  triumphant. 
I  pretend  not  to  prophecy,  but  this  will  surely  come 
to  pass."  This,  at  the  time,  was  implicitly  believed  in 
by  some  Jealous  Presbyterians  present,  who  treasur- 
ed it  up  in  their  hearts ;  and,  at  a  later  day,  when 
this  dark  period  had  given  place  to  a  brighter  and 
better  state  of  things,  ascribed  to  the  earl  the  spirit 
of  prophecy,  which  had  thus  enabled  him  to  foretell 


. 


* 

262  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

the  future  prosperity  of  that  religion  and  country  to 
which  he  was  so  much  devoted. 

The  last  morning  of  his  life  beamed  brightly 
through  the  windows  of  his  cell.  The  sight  of  the 
glorious  sun  rejoiced  his  soul ;  and  a  sweet  smile 
played  upon  his  features.  He  ate  his  meals  with  a 
good  appetite,  and  conversed  cheerfully  with  his 
friends.  After  his  dinner,  as  was  his  custom,  he  laid 
down  to  sleep,  in  order  to  be  prepared  with  necessary 
strength  to  ascend  the  scaffold. 

One  of  the  lords  of  the  council,  who  had  been 
bred  a  Presbyterian,  had,  through  bribery,  been  se- 
duced into  joining  the  king's  party  against  the 
church,  was  despatched  with  a  message  to  Argyle. 
When  he  arrived  at  the  castle,  he  demanded  admit- 
tance to  the  earl.  The  answer  given  was  that  he 
was  fast  asleep,  and  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  dis- 
turb him. 

This  was  thought  merely  an  excuse,  and  he  in- 
sisted on  seeing  him,  declaring  that  his  business 
was  urgent. 

Finding  it  impossible  to  evade  the  privy  coun- 
cilor's determination  to  see  their  noble  prisoner,  the 
door  was  softly  opened  ;  and  there,  stretched  on  his 
pallet,  in  irons,  lay  Argyle,  sleeping  as  sweetly  as  an 
infant. 

The  conscience-stricken  man  started  at  sight  of 
such  composure,  in  the  near  view  of  death.  What  a 
lesson  of  peace  with  God  did  it  not  read  to  his  heart. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  263 

He  turned  pale  as  death ;  for  lie  felt  how  different 
the  case  was  with  him.  Argyle  continued  in  his 
profound  sleep ;  and,  unable  to  bear  the  sight,  he 
fled  from  the  castle,  never  stopping  a  moment  until 
he  had  reached  his  own  dwelling,  where,  throwing 
himself  upon  a  sofa,  shame,  self-reproach  and  remorse 
so  overcame  him,  that  he  groaned  aloud.  His  wife 
came  into  the  parlor  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  on 
hearing  so  unusual  a  sound.  "  Oh,"  she  exclaimed, 
on  witnessing  his  agony,  "what  has  happened  to 

you?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  he,  "  to  me,  surely."  "You 
are  ill,  my  love,"  she  tenderly  returned ;  "  let  me 
give  you  a  cup  of  usquebaugh."  "No,"  he  said  with 
quickness,  "  that  cannot  cure  a  soul  sick  with  itself." 

"Strange  words,"  she  observed:  "Oh,  something 
must  be  wrong ;"  and  beseeching  him  with  all  the 
eloquence  of  a  spirit  strong  in  the  power  of  affection, 
at  last  he  was  induced  to  tell  her : 

"I  have  been,  my  love,"  he  said,  "  to  see  Argyle, 
in  the  castle  ;  and  what  do  you  think  ?  though  but 
one  hour  to  remain  on  earth,  I  found  him  as  calmly 
sleeping  as  a  new-born  tbabe.  O,  Annie,  how  could 
I  have  felt  under  such  circumstances  ?" 

His  wife  said  nothing.  Well  she  knew  and  deeply 
had  she  mourned  his  apostacy  to  the  church ;  but, 
with  true  woman's  pity,  she  pressed  his  hand  within 
her  own,  and,  lifting  her  soul  to  God,  prayed  that  he 
might  repent  and  be  forgiven. 


264  BRITISH     REBELLIOK. 

The  earl,  meanwhile,  had  awoke,  and  risen  from 
his  bed  to  prepare  for  the  final  scene ;  and,  sitting 
down,  wrote  a  farewell  letter  to  his  beloved  wife  ; 
employing  the  tenderest  epithets  to  express  his  affec- 
tion and  his  sense  of  the  goodness  of  God  ;  earnestly 
commending  her  and  his  children  to  his  beneficent 
care.  "  Forgive  me  all  my  faults,  dear  heart,"  he 
continued,  "  as  I  know  you  will ;  and  when  I  am 
gone,  comfort  yourself  in  the  Lord,  in  whom  all  true 
comfort  lies.  May  he  bless  and  keep  thee  until  we 
meet  in  Heaven.  Adieu,  dearest  of  wives  and  chil- 
dren. A.  ARGYLE." 

The  time  had-arrived  when  the  lords  were  to  leave 
the  council  house,  and  Argyle  to  be  conducted  from 
his  cell  to  the  scaffold.  Ministers  of  the  Church  of 
England  'were  appointed  to  attend  him ;  and  not 
those  of  his  own  persuasion.  But  this  did  not  move 
Argyle  ;  they  were  Protestants,  and  that  sufficed. 

He  meekly  and  reverentially  responded  to  their 
exhortations,  and  then  besought  them  to  be  zealous 
in  cautioning  their  flocks  against  admitting  those 
doctrines  into  their  hearts  which  were  the  destruction 
of  Protestantism.  Then,  mounting  the  scaffold,  the 
"rude  old  gullotine,"  used  in  Scotland,  and  called, 
for  some  incomprehensible  cause,  "  the  maiden,"  he 
addressed  the  assembled  multitude  'in  the  Scottish 
phraseology  of  the  deepest  piety.  Most  of  his  hear- 
ers shed  tears  at  beholding  his  perfect  resignation 
and  unruffled  calmness  in  an  hour  when  even  the 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  265 

stoutest  heart  has  been  known  to  fail.  "  He  hoped," 
he  said,  "  God  would  forgive  his  enemies,  as  he  had 
forgiven  them."  But  one  bitter  expression  escaped 
him. 

"  My  lord  dies  a  Protestant,"  one  of  the  Episco- 
pal clergymen  announced  to  the  people. 

"Yes,"  returned  Argyle,  in  a  loud  and  clear 
voice,  "  and  not  only  a  Protestant,  but  with  a  hatred 
of  Popery  and  prelacy,  in  all  its  forms,  with  all  its 
priest-craft,  cruelty,  and  superstitions."  Then  turning 
to  his  friends,  he  embraced  them  affectionately,  and 
putting  some  tokens  of  remembrance  into  their 
hands,  to  be  given  to  his  wife  and  children,  after  a 
brief  prayer  gave  the  signal  to  the  executioner. 

Thus  ended  the  life  of  one  whose  virtues  are  en- 
graved on  the  memory  of  thousands,  who,  in  reading 
his  history,  cannot  but  lament  that  excess  of  amia- 
bility which  made  him,  with  the  finest  abilities  for  a 
governor,  the  dupe  and  tool  of  two  men,  alike  desti- 
tute of  principle,  feeling,  and  judgment,  but  whose 
jealousy  prevented  their  yielding  to  another,  a  place 
they  were  wholly  unfitted  to  fill  themselves. 

His  head  was  fixed  on  the  Tolbooth,  where  the 
head  of  Montrose  had  more  than  thirty  years  before 
been  placed,  and  kept  till  it  decayed. 

Kumbold  had  already  shared  the  same  fate,  and 
his  head  was  placed,  after  his  execution,  on  the  "West- 
port  of  Edinburgh.  Rumbold  was  a  brave  man  and 
a  good  soldier.  Throughout  the  whole  campaign 


266  BKITISH     REBELLION. 

his  consistency  of  conduct  was  remarkable.  Allured 
neither  by  the  cowardice  of  one  party,  nor  the  inso- 
lence of  another,  his  attachment  to  Argyle  continued 
unabated  to  the  last.  When  he  lost  his  way,  and  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night  wandered  away  from  the 
army,  he  had  still  hopes  of  regaining  them  when  the 
daylight  broke.  But  the  following  morning  found 
their  troops  dispersed,  and  all  thoughts  of  prosecut- 
ing the  war  ended. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Eumbold's  first  care 
was  the  preservation  of  his  life.  He  therefore  sought 
the  most  retired  spots  through  woods  and  morasses, 
where  the  solitude  that  surrounded  him  seemed  a 
protection  from  the  king's  troops.  But  in  this  idea 
he  was  mistaken.  A  party  of  militia  found  him  out, 
and  pursued  him  furiously.  His  horse  kept  them  at 
bay  for  some  time,  but  coming  up  they  fell  upon  him 
with  unsparing  energy.  He  fought  long  and  vigo- 
rously, and  would  have  cut  his  way  through,  not- 
withstanding their  numbers,  had  they  not  ham- 
stringed his  trusty  steed.  He  was  conveyed  to 
Edinburgh  covered  with  wounds,  to  all  appearance 
mortal. 

Eumbold  was  considered  an  old  offender.  In  his 
house  the  Eye-house  Plot  had  been  formed,  and  the 
project  of  assassinating  the  royal  brothers  received  its 
sanction.  His  capture  therefore  was  a  sweet  morsel 
to  the  king  and  the  royalists,  and  they  desired  above 
all  things  to  have  him.  executed  in  England.  This, 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  267 

however,  it  was  very  evident  could  not  be  the  case. 
His  sufferings  from  the  wounds  he  had  received  had 
brought  him  very  low,  and  if  he  were  not  hung  at 
once  he  could  not  be  hung  at  all  alive,  and  this 
pleasure  his  conquerors  could  not  forego,  while  the 
insolence  he  endured  from  them  the  most  cruel  of 
our  own  day  would  shrink  from  with  disgust.  But 
his  magnanimity  under  all  the  provications  almost 
equalled  that  of  Argyle.  Patient,  calm,  and  un- 
ruffled, he  replied  to  all  their  cruel  tauntings  with 
piety  and  meekness,  avowing  his  trust  in  the  mercy 
of  God,  and  his  peace  through  a  Eedeemer. 

He  was  more  favored  than  Argyle  had  been  in 
one  respect.  He  had  a  trial.  Short,  to  be  sure,  but 
a  trial,  nevertheless,  wherein  he  was  convicted  of 
high-treason,  sentenced  to  be  hung  and  quartered. 

The  day  fixed  for  his  execution  found  him  so 
weak  that  he  was  unable  to  stand  without  support. 
He  was  conveyed  to  the  scaffold,  and  feeble  as  he 
was,  lifted  up  his  hands  towards  the  assembled  mul- 
titude, and  poured  forth  his  soul  in  a  loud  voice 
against  Popery.  The  drums  were  ordered  to  strike 
up  while  he  was  speaking,  so  that  the  people  should 
not  hear.  But  he  went  on,  and  adverted  to  the  evils 
of  an  absolute  monarchy.  "Providence,"  he  said, 
"  never  intended  that  one  man  should  govern  the 
wills  of  millions  by  his  own.  I  would,"  he  con- 
tinued, "magnify  God's  holy  name.  I  die  in  defence 
of  pure  and  undefiled  religion,  against  Popery  and 


268  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

all  its  horrors,  and  had  I  a  thousand  lives,  freely 
would  I  yield  them  all  in  such  a  cause." 

The  lords  of  the  council  taunted  him  with  the 
guilt  of  assassination  lying  on  his  conscience,  but 
this  he  denied  in  toto.  "  This  crime,"  he  replied,  "I 
know  has  been  attributed  to  me,  but  I  never,  on  the 
faith  of  a  dying  man,  harbored  such  a  thought  for  an 
instant. 

"Persons,"  he  continued,  "have  taken  a  wrong 
view  of  that  subject ;  I  have  ever  regarded  assassi- 
nation with  horror,  and  my  religion  has  taught  me 
its  criminality  too  deeply  to  embue  my  conscience 
with  so  heinous  a  deed." 

Rumbold  deluded  himself,  it  is  to  be  feared,  like 
many  others,  into  a  belief  in  this  instance,  that  the 
end  proposed  fully  justified  the  means.  A  zealous 
Protestant,  he  thought  the  removal  of  one  likely  to 
endeavor  to  subvert  the  whole  nation  to  Popery  was 
a  Christian  act,  and  according  to  the  usages  of  war, 
any  means  of  surprising  the  enemy,  were  fair.  It  was 
true  that  Charles  was  also  one  of  the  intended  vic- 
tims, but  as  a  sovereign  he  possessed  little  of  the 
esteem  and  affections  of  his  people.  In  a  word, 
those  concerned  in  the  "Rye-house  Plot"  wanted 
another  king,  and  that  one  was  Monmouth. 

James  regarded  Rumbold  in  the  light  of  a  mur- 
derer, whose  object  was  his  own  life,  and  his  re- 
vengeful feelings  heard  with  delight  of  his  capture 
and  execution. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  269 

He  was  executed  a  few  hours  before  Argyle,  who 
warmly  lauded  his  character  in  his  last  moments,  de- 
claring Eumbold  to  be  one  of  the  bravest  soldiers 
and  best  of  men. 

James'  view  of_Eumbold's  crime  was  perfectly 
unjustifiable  by  any  kind  of  reasoning.  Yet,  a  short 
time  after  we  find  him  attempting  to  justify  himself 
in  a  similar  way  for  the  self  same  thing.  He  em- 
ployed persons  of  his  own  persuasion  to  waylay  and 
surprise  the  Prince  of  Orange,  "William  the  Third, 
after  the  revolution,  and  take  his  life  by  cutting 
his  throat,  on  a  journey  from  Eichmond  to  Ken- 
sington. 

And  yet,  in  his  own  view,  he  was  guilty  of  no 
crime.  A  system  of  Jesuitical  reasoning  paved  away 
all  criminality  in  an  act  of  the  vilest  nature,  and 
justified  its  necessity  by  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 

Eumbold  died  as  became  a  Christian  and  a  brave 
man;  and  his  conduct,  save  in  this  one  instance, 
seems  to  have  been  irreproachable. 

With  his  companion,  Ayloffe,  it  was  far  different. 
No  piety  cheered  the  gloomy  period  of  his  imprison- 
ment or  execution.  He  had  joined  the  standard  of 
the  Protestants  against  Catholicism,  but  from  no  re- 
ligious feelings.  Ambition  and  a  thirst  for  glory  had 
drawn  him  towards  them,  rather  than  a  nation's 
good.  The  heroes  of  the  olden  time  were  the  idols 
of  his  imagination,  and  the  spur  which  lent  energy 
to  all  his  aspirations  and  actions. 


270  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

When  arrested,  he  was  taken  to  Glasgow.  Dur- 
ing his  imprisonment  he  made  an  attempt  to  commit 
suicide,  by  letting  blood  with  a  penknife  ;  and  other- 
wise wounding  himself.  He  could  not,  however,  by 
any  means,  effect  his  purpose.  When  discovered, 
the  knife  was  taken  from  him,  and  he  was  taken 
from  prison  and  conveyed  to  London,  where,  being 
brought  before  the  privy  council,  they  commenced 
interrogatories  relative  to  his  confederates.  An  in- 
terview is  also  said  to  have  taken  place  between  him 
and  the  king,  for  this  purpose ;  but  to  all,  AylofFe's 
mouth  was  sullenly  closed. 

He  hated  James  and  his  party,  and  preserved, 
even  in  his  extremity,  the  bold  and  fearless  spirit 
that  had  always  distinguished  him.  A  promise  of 
pardon  was  proffered  him,  if  he  confessed  all  he  knew 
of  the  remaining  insurgents  :  "  So  come,  Mr.  Ayloffe, 
be  frank  with  us,"  the  king  cunningly  added. 

But  Ayloffe  knew  his  man, — knew  him  to  be  as 
crafty  as  he  was  cruel,  and  whose  meanness  and  du- 
plicity would  lead  him  to  stoop  to  any  thing  to  ac- 
complish the  sanguinary  vengeance  of  his  disposition ; 
— and  he  replied,  "If  it  is  in  your  power  to  pardon 
me,  it  is  not  in  your  nature."  James  said  no  more  ; 
but,  grinding  his  teeth,  ordered  him  from  his'presence. 

He  was  tried,  convicted,  and  executed,  under  his 
former  treasonable  offences,  which  made  him  an 
outlaw. 

He  preserved  his  stoicism  to  the  last,  ascended 


BRITISH     REBELLION.  271 

the  scaffold,  erected  at  the  gate  of  the  temple,  with 
an  air  of  determined  defiance;  surveyed  the  multitude 
•which  always  hang  about  such  places,  with  a  sullen 
silence  ;  laid  his  head  upon  the  block,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  Ayloffe  was  no  more. 

Then  followed  the  vengeance  of  the  strong  upon 
the  weak.  Argyle's  followers  were  hunted  down 
like  wild  beasts,  and  brought  to  the  slaughter  with- 
out mercy,  and  without  one  pitying  thought  for 
either  themselves  or  their  suffering  families,  left,  in 
so  many  instances,  in  utter  destitution.  The  Duke 
of  Athol's  enmity  to  the  Campbells  vented  itself  in 
the  most  cruel  and  heartless  manner.  Those  of  them 
who  were  taken,  he  caused  to  be  hung,  without  trial 
by  judge  or  jury  ;  and  without  even  time  for  com- 
mendation of  their  souls  to  God.  The  whole  race 
he  longed  to  destroy ;  and,  had  he  not  been  withheld 
by  the  intervention  of  the  privy  council,  would  have 
adopted  measures  for  a  consummation  he  so  devoutly 
wished. 

Throughout  Inverary,  a  country  rich  and  abound- 
ing in  nature's  gifts;  and  rendered  still  more  produc- 
tive by  the  labors  of  the  husbandman,  waste  and  de- 
solation now  only  reigned.  The  inhabitants,  for  thirty 
miles  around,  were  Argyle's  tenants,  and  were  de- 
voted to  him  to  a  man.  They  had  all  turned  out  to 
follow  their  noble  chief;  and  the  disastrous  issue  of 
his  enterprise  had  caused  them  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  their  merciless  conquerors. 


272  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

The  homes  of  those  brave  peasants  were  burned ; 
their  mills  broken  down  and  destroyed.  Flourishing 
orchards  and  fruit  gardens  were  set  fire  to,  and  even 
the  roots  burnt.  Many  were  fishermen,  and  gained 
a  livelihood  by  fishing  on  the  coast ;  these  had  their 
boats  and  nets  destroyed.  But  this  was  not  the 
worst.  Those  who  were  not  hung  had  a  still  more 
cruel  lot ;  being  transported  to  the  Colonies.  Many 
were  mutilated,  being  sentenced  to  have  their  ears 
cut  off  before  they  left ;  the  hangman,  it  is  said,  cut- 
ting off,  in  one  day,  the  ears  of  thirty-five  indivi- 
duals. Even  women  shared  in  the  cruelty  of  the 
times ;  and  several,  previous  to  being  sent  off,  were 
branded  on  the  cheek  with  a  red  hot  iron,  leaving 
•  children,  young  and  helpless,  in  a  state  of  utter  des- 
titution, to  the  tender  mercies  of  these  monsters  in 
human  form.* 

But  Athol's  ireful  feelings  were  unsated  yet.  As 
the  old  adage  saith,  "  like  master  like  man  ;"  so  this 
minion,  seeking  royal  favor,  to  show  a  fair  account 
of  his  deeds  to  James,  followed  out  every  suggestion 
of  his  ambitious  and  cruel  heart  in  the  most  wanton 
displays  of  atrocity.  His  last  attempt  of  malicious 
cruelty,  was  endeavoring  to  obtain  an  act  of  parlia- 
ment, permitting  the  name  of  Campbell  to  be  pro- 
scribed ;  but  in  this  he  did  not  succeed. 

*  Woodrow  gives  an  accurate  detail  of  the  names  of  those 
prisoners  who  were  branded,  transported,  and  mutilated. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  273 

Thus  was  Scotia  mourning  her  misery  and  sub- 
jection to  a  wretched  bigot,  with  hope  crushed  be- 
neath the  impervious  gloom  which  hung  over  a  land 
cherished  by  thousands  of  brave  hearts,  who  wit- 
nessed, helplessly,  and  desparingly  the  shadows 

which  enveloped  her. 

r         *  •     .  ,•       '  •  «*•'  -        ~  *»• 

m>~ 

- 


1     *' 

'  " 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


The  rebellion  quelled  in  both  England  and  Scot- 
land, James  breathed  freely,  happily,  and  exultingly 
over  his  thousands  slain,  and  his  tens  of  thousands 
awed  into  the  most  abject  submission  to  his  will. 
The  name  of  rebellion,  he  thought,  laid  aside  for 
ever,  and  his  throne  of  power  established  on  pillars, 
whose  firm  foundation  no  earthly  power  could  shake 
or  remove. 

The  queen  imagined,  in  her  bigotry,  that  she  saw 
the  hand  of  God  in  the  cruel  and  bloody  measures 
which  had  filled  both  nations  with  broken,  bleeding 
hearts ;  and  that  the  pure  Catholic  faith  was  vindi- 
cated by  the  humane  delights  of  torture  which  in 
every  form  afflicted  the  poor  misguided  people  who 
fell  powerless  into  the  hands  of  conquerors,  destitute 
alike  of  feeling  or  principle.  Tales  of  devastation  and 
horror  they  gloated  over  with  feelings  of  gratulation 
more  in  keeping  with  the  wild  Indian,  whose  savage 
nature  neither  law  or  civilization  had  subdued  or 
improved,  than  beings  in  whom  refinement,  it  would 
naturally  be  supposed,  would  have  had  its  highest 
representatives. 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  275 

The  whigs  beheld,  with  sorrowful  emotions,  the 
heartless  and  bold  triumph  of  the  conquerors  ;  and 
their  very  name  carried  misery  and  defeature  on  its 
face.  Every  one  avoided  so  fatal  an  appellation, 
one  which  branded  with  reproach  :  no  bright  future 
promised  a  resumption  of  its  former  glory,  or  coupled 
it,  as  they  once  did,  with  hopes  of  England's  deli- 
verance from  hands  steeped  in  oppressions  of  every 
name  and  order. 

As  the  olive  waved  its  new-born  foliage  over 
England,  and  industry  and  art  by  slow  degrees  re- 
sumed their  energies  beneath  its  refreshing  shadow, 
the  revenues  of  the  king  swelled  to  a  most  un- 
looked  for  extent;  and  with  them  the  proud  and 
stony  heart  of  James.  He  beheld  his  power  in- 
creasing on  every  side,  while  his  Parliament  became 
more  and  more  devoted  to  him.  In  ecclesiastical 
favor  he  stood  higher  than  ever ;  while  his  minions 
on  all  sides  fluttered  around  him  with  flatteries  of 
his  greatness,  his  triumph,  his  strength,  and  his 
goodness.  Prosperity  on  all  sides  surrounded  him ; 
and  it  did  its  work.  In  the  days  of  his  abject  fear, 
lest  his  kingdom  should  be  reft  from  him,  he  had 
solicited  aid  from  his  son-in-law,  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  in  terms  of  the  most  unprecedented  humi- 
lity for  a  monarch ;  and,  when  a  compliance  of  his 
request  was  granted,  it  was  received  with  tears  of 
gratitude  as  a  favor  he  had  feared  too  great  to 
anticipate. 


V  m 

276  BRITISH      REBELLION. 


Forgetful  of  a  period  so  fearful  and  so  gloomy, 
his  spirit,  like  the  frog  in  the  fable,  was  fast  increas- 
ing its  proportions.  He  was  fast  getting  beyond 
himself,  and  in  the  visions  he  daily  wove  of  future 
greatness  was  speedily  becoming,  in  his  mind's  eye, 
the  umpire  of  the  world,  beginning,  however,  with 
Europe  first. 

He  had  extended  a  promise  to  the  United  Pro- 
vinces, that  when  all  should  be  calm  in  England  he 
would  evince  his  intentions  to  the  world,  and  show 
how  he  would  bid  defiance  to  France  ;  and  as  early 
as  a  month  after  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor,  we  find 
him  concluding  a  treaty  with  the  States  General, 
couched  in  the  most  unmistakeable  manner  and 
spirit  of  the  Triple  Alliance ;  in  which  he  was  joined 
by  ministers  who,  previous  to  that  period,  had  de- 
precated every  thing  tending  to  French  ascendancy ; 
but,  in  the  true  courtier  view  of  following  the 
strongest  party,  now  that  all  chance  was  over  of 
destroying  James,  fawned  on  his  every  wish,  and 
became  the  puppets  of  his  will. 

Lord  Halifax  was  one  of  Monmouth's  chief 
abettors  in  the  early  stages  of  the  rebellion.  He 
was  now  the  chief  adviser  of  the  king.  The  darling 
object  of  James  still  occupied  his  mind,  however, 
above  all  others,  that  of  making  England  a  Catholic 
nation.  But  there  was  one  great  check  to  the  ar- 
dent zeal  with  which  he  prosecuted  his  plans,  Avhich 
was,  that  in  the  event  of  his  death,  his  daughter 


.*• 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  277 

" 

Mary,  Princess  of  Orange,  and  the  prince,  who  were 
Protestants,  would  undo  all  that  he  might  do  before. 
Well  James  knew  the  favor  with  which  the  Prince 
of  Orange  was  regarded,  on  that  account,  by  the 
people  of  England ;  but  that  knowledge  did  not 
prevent  his  taking  every  possible  measure  to  ad- 
vance Catholicism.  And  so  glaring  and  misplaced 
was  his  ardor  in  its  behalf,  that  on  his  determining, 
through  the  counsels  of  the  queen,  to  introduce 
papists  into  the  army  and  navy ;  and  offering  indul- 
gence to  Eoman  Catholics,  inclusive  of  all  dissen- 
ters ;  the  bishops  themselves  became  alarmed  at  his 
inconsistent  zeal,  and  waited  on  him  to  present  a 
remonstrance  against  such  an  intemperate  step; 
which  so  enraged  the  king  that  he  ordered  them  to 
be  committed  to  the  Tower.  They  were  afterwards 
brought  to  trial ;  but  the  sympathies  of  both  high 
and  low  being  in  their  favor,  it  eventuated  in  their 
acquittal,  much  to  the  discomfiture  and  mortification 
of  James. 

The  king's  whole  thoughts  now  turned  into  an 
entirely  new  channel.  "  Oh,  if  I  had  a  son,"  was  his 
constant  exclamation.  For  the  succession  of  the  Pro- 
testant Prince  of  Orange  filled  his  mind  with  the 
wildest  despair.  At  the  height  of  this  despondency, 
the  queen  promised  to  be  a  mother  ;  and,  with  joy, 
he  hailed  an  event  which  he  trusted  would  realize 
his  fondest  wishes. 

Should  his  prosperity  receive  this  last  crowning 

13* 


278  BRITISH     REBELLION. 

.•*  *'v  *  M   ' 

point  to  his  desires,  his  happiness  would  be  com- 
plete ;  Popery  would  be  perpetuated,  through  its 
medium,  and  England's  throne  be  filled  still  with  a 
Catholic  monarch. 

But  James'  entire  occupancy  of  himself  and  his 
wishes  prevented  his  seeing  and  knowing  that  the 
secret  desires  of  his  people  were  sapping,  to  its  very 
foundations,  the  superstructure  he  was  raising  to  per- 
petuate his  future  glory  with  such  bold  confidence 
and  hopes  in  its  fulfilment.  The  prospect  of  an  heir 
to  the  throne  filled  all  England  with  dismay.  With 
James'  death,  they  looked  forward  to  a  successor  who 
would  again  restore  to  them  the  peaceful  joys  and 
happy  privileges  of  the  Protestant  religion ;  but  if 
the  king  had  a  son,  Popery  and  all  its  horrors  would 
be  again  entailed  on  them,  it  might  be,  for  centuries. 
This  consideration  drove  them  almost  to  madness ; 
and  in  secret  their  measures  were  taken,  if  the  ex- 
pected child  should  prove  a  son. 

What  they  dreaded  happened ;  a  son  was  born 
to  James,  June  10th,  1688.  And  then  followed  prompt 
measures  to  secure  to  the  nation  another  sovereign,  in 
the  person  of  William  of  Nassau,  Prince  of  Orange. 

Meetings  were  once  more  held  in  London,  ex- 
pressive of  the  people's  disgust  at  the  present  Popish 
administration,  and  its  promise  of  perpetuation,  which 
ended  in  concerted  measures  for  James'  dethrone- 
ment, and  his  son-in-law's  being  called  by  tlie  uni- 
versal voice  to  take  his  place,  as  their  king. 


BRITISH     REBELLIOH.  279 

During  his  domestic  joy  at  the  fulfilment  of  his 
ardent  desires,  and  the  new  field  it  seemed  to  open 
for  the  achievement  of  his  future  schemes,  the  king 
saw  and  heard  nothing  of  the  discontent  of  the  peo- 
ple. He  felt  he  stood  secure.  Strong  on  the  right 
and  the  left,  his  eye  penetrating  beyond  the  vistas  of 
his  son's  minority,  he  beheld  his  cherished  desire  of 
subverting  the  kingdom  to  Catholicism,  in  full  blaze, 
and  his  enemies  subdued  and  crouching  to  the  tri- 
umphal car  of  glory  and  power,  on  which  his  son  sat. 

The  queen's  heart  also  dilated  with  delight  at 
those  bright  visions  of  her  husband ;  but  their  extatic 
emotions  were  short-lived  indeed. 

Two  short  months  after  the  birth  of  his  son,  a 
letter  was  put  into  the  king's  hand,  from  his  ministry 
at  the  Hague,  informing  him  of  the  communications 
which  had  passed  between  his  people  and  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  on  the  subject  of  an  invasion,  owing  to 
the  general  discontent  experienced  by  the  English 
people  ;  and  their  determination,  if  possible,  to  have 
another  monarch,  and  that  other  was  the  Prince  of 
Orange. 

James  was  completely  taken  aback  by  this  infor- 
mation ;  the  letter  dropped  from  his  hands,  and  he  fell 
back  in  his  chair  completely  stunned.  When,  how- 
ever, consciousness  returned,  his  first  thought  was  to 
retract  some  of  his  most  recent  arbitrary  measures. 
But  he  had  gone  too  far.  His  people  at  once  saw 
through  the  craven  fear  that  actuated  him.  He  was 


280  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

beginning  to  appear  in  his  true  light,  even  to  those 
who  had  resolutely  stood  by  him  through  all  the 
fluctuations  of  the  past.  As  a  monster  and  a  bigot 
they  regarded  him.  now,  desiring  only  to  gratify  the 
selfish  desires  of  his  depraved  nature ;  caring  neither 
for  the  feelings  of  his  subjects  or  the  prosperity  of 
the  nation.  But  in  the  distance  a  mild  and  radiant 
star  beamed  upon  long  suffering  England,  and  be- 
neath its  kindling  lustre  they  beheld  a  halo  sweetly 
gleaming  above  its  head,  while  the  wings  of  hope 
expanded  as  it  came  nearer,  as  an  earnest,  they  trust- 
ed, that  superstition  and  fanaticism  would  soon  pass 
away  under  the  cheering  influence  of  a  monarch 
whose  healthful  tone  of  mind  would  restore,  not  only 
tranquillity,  but  that  energetic  industry  which  is  a 
nation's  truest  glory,  under  the  genial  smile  of  the 
religion  they  loved ;  where,  in  the  sanctuary,  or  be- 
neath their  own  fig-trees,  they  could  worship  the 
God  of  their  fathers  as  their  consciences  dictated,  free 
from  the  fetters  of  fear  or  the  dread  of  punishment. 
The  disastrous  termination  of  Monmouth's  in- 
vasion caused  some  doubts  as  to  the  result ;  but  the 
whole  heart  of  England  was  enlisted  in  its  success ; 
and  so  well  were  their  measures  taken,  and  the  voice 
so  general,  that  James  felt  opposition  would  be  a 
vain  and  futile  thing.  Even  ..the  Jesuits,  his  warm 
and  faithful  friends,  advised  him  to  abandon  the 
country.  The  queen  had  the  good  sense  to  join  her 
advice  to  theirs ;  and  thus  led  by  fear  and  shame,  he 


BRITISH      REBELLION.  281 

prepared  to  fly,  without  a  single  effort  to  preserve 
Ms  position  or  his  throne. 

The  time  of  retribution  had  arrived ;  driven  to 
leave  the  scene  of  his  late  exultation  and  cruelty  by 
stealth,  to  seek  refuge  at  the  hands  of  strangers,  as  a 
wanderer  and  a  homeless  exile,  his  punishment  was 
complete ;  while  conscience  whispered  its  tale  beneath 
his  ear,  and  brought  with  it  its  remorseful  sting. 

The  queen  and  his  infant  son  he  sent  away  pri- 
vately ;  and  a  few  days  after,  on  the  12th  of  Decem- 
ber, he  himself  left  London  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
and  joined  her  on  board  a  ship  bound  for  France. 

In  the  morning  the  palace  was  found  vacated  of 
its  sovereign,  and  the  news  quickly  spreading,  Lon- 
don was  soon  up  in  arms.  A  mob  arose  who  seemed 
to  consider  themselves  masters  of  everything,  and 
with  the  usual  spirit  of  mobism,  began  to  take  sum- 
mary measures  on  those  whose  sanguinary  proceed- 
ings of  the  past  had  wrung  with  torture  every  feeling 
and  humane  mind.  The  horrors  of  the  rebellion 
fired  their  souls  with  a  thirst  for  revenge  on  every 
one  concerned  in  it. 

In  a  terror-stricken  state  of  mind,  Jeffrys,  dis- 
guised, and  intending  to  fly,  emerged  from  his 
dwelling;  but  discovering  who  he  was,  they  fell 
upon  him,  and  beat  and  kicked  him  so  unmercifully 
that  he  died  in  the  street  like  a  dog.  A  fitting  end 
for  such  a  miscreant.  The  next  move  was  to  tear 
down  all  the  mass-houses  and  destroy  all  the  Catho- 


282  BRITISH      REBELLION. 

lie  images  of  the  virgin  and  saints  they  could  find. 
Confusion  and  uproar  was  at  its  height  in  Lon- 
don, all  business  was  at  a  stand,  but  delight  and 
exultation  filled  every  heart.  A  Protestant  king 
was  once  more  coming  among  them  ;  and  they  were 
delivered  from  the  oppressors  fangs.  "Long  live 
King  William !"  rent  the  air,  as  they  moved  along 
in  triumphal  masses ;  and  "  perish  the  tyrant  who 
has  so  long  scourged  the  land  !"  and  weaving  their 
sentiments  into  a  rude  rhyme,  sung  : — 

"  Jeffry's  lies  dead, 

"  The  "butcher  of  men  ; 
"  And  the  tyrant  his  master 

"  Has  ceased  his  dread  reign."  .4 

A  mob  is  a  fearful  spectacle  at  any  time  ;  but 
Lord  Feversham,  commander  of  the  king's  forces,  to 
increase  the  general  disorder,  disbanded  them  with- 
out paying  their  wages,  and  sent  them  armed 
through  the  country ;  where  with  the  lawless  reck- 
lessness of  soldiers'  morals  they  committed  all  man- 
ner of  depredations. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things,  when,  calling  a 
meeting  of  the  bishops  and  peers  of  the  realm,  a 
letter  was  despatched  to  the  Prince  of  Orange  invit- 
ing him  to  come  over  and  fill  the  vacant  throne  of 
England ;  a  call  which  he  promptly  obeyed,  and, 
without  one  dissenting  voice,  assumed  the  regal 
title.  This  was  a  time  of  much  rejoicing ;  all  classes 


BRITISH      REBELLION. 


283 


joined  in  celebrating  the  auspicious  event.  Illu- 
minations and  bonfires  blazed  through  town  and 
country  ;  triumphal  arches  graced  the  mansion  of 
the  peer  and  adorned  the  cottage  of  the  peasant. 
Effigies  of  James  and  his  queen  were  burned  ;  and 
every  species  of  exultation,  in  fireworks,  balls,  and 
shows,  marked  that  grateful  epoch  of  English  history. 

James  and  his  queen  reached  Feversham  in 
safety  ;  but  here  he  was  discovered  and  brought 
back  to  London.  He  was  filled  with  alarm;  but 
his  daughter  had  extorted  from  her  husband  a  pro- 
mise of  protection  from  all  violence  for  her  father. 
William,  therefore,  acting  in  fulfilment  of  it,  not  only 
refused  to  take  cognizance  of  the  circumstance,  but 
secretly  aided  his  second  escape.  And,  reaching 
France,  he  sought  refuge  at  the  luunl.-f  of  the  French 
monarch,  Louis  XIV.  wh<  J  be  it  spoken, 

received  him  with  sympathy  and  kindness. 

Hope  was  now  kindled  throughout  all  England. 
The  dark  clouds  which  had  so  long  enveloped  the 
nation  were  dispersed  ;  .  and  the  bright  rays  of  one 
unclouded  sun  promised  to  gild  their  future  paths 
with  happiness  and  peace,  under  the  reign  of  Wil- 
liam and  Mary,  who  were  subsequently  crowned 
king  and  queen  of  Great  Britain. 


FINIS. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


NOV    6)975 


1976 


Form  L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 


RN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  801  849     1 


DflKH 


1 


mam 


w\ 


